Complex Destiny
by GingerCat17
Summary: Narcissa and Hermione are building their life together, but when you are the last of the Noble House of Black and the Golden Girl peace cannot last. An old secret comes to light and Narcissa finds herself at the center of it all. Their relationship is put to a test. Can they persevere? SEQUEL to COMPLEX DESIRE (Warning: deals with very heavy topics, no extra warnings)
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! It's been almost six months since I finished _Complex Desire_. It feels, though, as if no time has passed, because Narcissa and Hermione never left me. Their story continued almost seemlessly in my mind and eventually on paper. I did write the sequal I was thinking about.

If you have not read _Complex Desire_ there are going to be a thing or two that you don't understand, but you should still be able to follow the story.

As far as updates are concerned, they will hopefully come every two weeks (don't hold me to it). I have planned the entire plot and I have only about two or three chapters left to write, so I am positive that updates will be more regular than they used to be.

Now, enough said. I present to you:

 _ **Complex Destiny**_

* * *

The manor stands as bold and uninviting as it has for centuries. It shouldn't feel uninviting to Narcissa. She grew up here after all, but alas, there are many different kinds of upbringing, not all of them happy, are they? Rain is pouring down heavy, so she pulls the hood more into her face as she makes her way down the muddy path. At the grand doors, she moves her fingers along the snake carved into the heavy mahogany. Still recognizing her it twists, slythers and gives entrance. Her boots echo on the stone floor, the leather coat crunches while she unbuttons it. She smirks as she hears the gasp.

"Narcissa Malfoy, what on earth are you wearing?"

She looks down at herself; she's wearing a sweater, jeans and leather boots, all in black. Then, she turns, smirk still on her face, and looks at her mother, or rather the portrait of her. "It'll be Black again soon," she says, ignoring the question. "I'm divorcing Lucius." Granted _soon_ is optimistic, but she just has been dying to let her mother know. The expression on her face right now is definitely as priceless as she hoped it would be.

"What do you mean? What have you done to make him dump you, you stupid useless brat?" Druella screamed that last part.

Narcissa chuckles. "Oh no, you misunderstood. _I_ have left _him_."

"What? Why would you leave a man like him?"

"I fell in love." She shrugs nonchalantly.

The image of her mother coughs. Love is a notion neither the Blacks nor the Rosiers ever thought much of. „Salazar, you're dumber than I thought. To leave a man like Lucius for something as silly as love. What's his name? Who is this filthy man?"

"Hermione, maman. Her name is Hermione Granger." She turns away and heads upstairs.

"NARCISSA ORFELIA MALFOY, come right back here!"

She laughs too loud to hear the rest of maman's outrage. On the second floor she finds the reason she came here for: the Black library. The smell of old parchment hits her immediately as she enters. As ambiguous as her feelings towards this house might be, she has always loved the library. One would hardly find one as extensive anywhere else in wizarding Britain, except for Hogwarts, of course. She wanders through the shelves aimlessly, simply enjoying the atmosphere, the smell of old parchment. Libraries have always had a calming effect on her. Walking further down the aisles into the depths of the library, her eyes travel across the spines until they stop at a certain assembly of books. Something's off here. Magic radiates from the section. She lifts her wand, "Finite Incantatem", and bursts out laughing. My my, what do we have here? It's a little assembly of ancient erotic spell books. That's something she definitely didn't expect to find here. She smirks at the thought of her parents going on a hunt for these rare books, sneaking them into the library at night and placing charms on them, so she and her sisters wouldn't find them. She flicks through the pages of some of these books, stopping at one particular spell that seems rather fascinating. She skims the paragraph briefly and memorizes the incantation. Hermione certainly inflamed her experimental side and this seems like a good source for inspiration. To find what she originally came here for, without a doubt she has to look at the section dedicated to the Dark Arts, which is admittedly the largest section. Thankfully the sections are ordered alphabetically, so it doesn't take her long to find the book in question. Carefully she takes _The Power of Dark Curses and Blood Magic by Vinda Rosier_ out of the shelf. The knowledge that one of her ancestors wrote this book makes her sick. She sits down in one of the arm chairs at the center of the library and carefully begins turning the fragile pages until she reaches the chapter on cursed wounds and scars. She reads, _Knives, daggers and blades can be enchanted to leave a permanent scar via the Sanguis curse. The enchantment requires a fair amount of skill in the Dark Arts and the shedding of blood of the witch or wizard who does the enchantment. Once the wound inflicted upon the victim has closed the remaining scar will not be altered by any of the common healing spells. For the scar to vanish the witch or wizard who inflicted the wound has to inflict the same wound at the same place on themselves …_ She closes the book. Damn it. Angrily she heads back downstairs, book still in hand.

"Narcissa! Come to me right this second!"

She completely ignores her mother's portrait and heads right on, down, deep into the catacombs of Black Manor. The staircase leading down is small and narrow, the air gets heavier and damper the further she descends. The stairs open up into a small circular room, barely lit with a few torches enchanted to burn on forever. It's the first tomb on the left, the newest addition. Dust has already created a thin layer. She brushes it off, a tad too affectionately.

"You were really clever with that knife, sister." It's a statement that contains both admiration and disgust. What a remarkable witch Bellatrix was; how horribly misguided and wasted her talent. She sits on top of the tomb and opens the book once more on the same page. _For the scar to vanish the witch or wizard who inflicted the wound has to inflict the same wound at the same place on themselves or, due to the similar magical make up, a close relative can undo the curse in the same way._ That would technically be the solution, though she doubts Hermione would ever let her do that. Narcissa has wished so many times she could heal the physical scar. It would not erase what happened, of course, but it would be a symbolic gesture and at least erase the daily reminder of the trauma. Hermione says the scar doesn't bother her, but Narcissa knows that's not true. It really only hit her a couple of days ago as they were dress shopping. It was a nightmare. Nothing seemed to please Hermione until she noticed that her girlfriend notoriously refused the dresses with short or no sleeves at all. She immediately agreed to the first long-sleeved dress Narcissa suggested. It pains her and she would willingly slice her own flesh to elevate some of Hermione's pain. Though she highly doubts it, it's worth asking and so she puts the book in her bag to take it home. She takes the stairs back up when – "Ah!" – a sharp pain pierces through her head. She falls forward, eyes screwed up, bracing herself on her trembling arms she waits for the pain to subside. It just takes a few seconds, but the pain is so intense they feel like hours. When it's over she opens her eyes to see drops of sweat hitting the stone stairs. She gets up and leans against the wall, a cold shiver rushing over her, and waits a few minutes to recover. She hopes it's truly over because she really needs to go. She's late for her appointment already.

…

Nervously she twists her hands as she sits alone in the room, waiting for her soul mender. She's not as nervous as she used to be before her first sessions. They weren't easy in the slightest, neither for her nor her soul mender. It took the woman a lot of work to gain Narcissa's trust, several weeks passed before they started to truly work together. Now, she has come to enjoy these sessions. Well, _enjoy_ might be a strange word for it, not quite fitting, but these sessions help her and no matter how difficult they are, she always feels lighter after she has opened up. And so this time she is not ashamed that her eyes are already glistening when the witch enters and takes a seat opposite her.

"What is it, Mrs. Malfoy? Why are you crying?"

No small talk, cutting right to the chase. That's one of the things she appreciates about her soul mender. She follows suit. "I love her. My sister. Bellatrix. Despite everything she's done. She's tortured so many people, the very ones I love the most, Andy, my girlfriend …"

"Do not forget yourself," the witch reminds her casually.

"Yes, and myself," she acknowledges.

"We've spoken a lot about negative things in regards to your eldest sister , but you never told me what her good qualities were."

"Excuse me?" She's startled. Never ever has someone asked, not even thought for a second, that Bellatrix could have possessed good qualities.

"Well, if you love her so much, there must have been good sides to her, otherwise your feelings towards her wouldn't be so complex."

Her heart aches, because yes, there were good sides to her and she misses them so much. Inhaling deeply she starts, "She was funny. Believe it or not, but she could be a total dork. She was smart and so strong and fierce. Merlin, I admired her; I _envied_ her. She was so free, at least until she met him. Things changed, then."

"How so?"

"She grew … darker. I know that sounds strange, but it's the only way I can describe it. She was so dedicated to the cause, to him; everything else came second … or third. She was easily irritated, lost all patience for mistakes, vulnerability. She was so angry all the time."

"Did she take that anger out on you?"

"Yes", she whispers. It's something she hates to admit.

"How did that make you feel?"

"Worthless. I wondered what I had done wrong until, eventually, I felt I deserved it because … well, our father was a violent man. She took all of his violence for _me_ – and I let her." She's crying now. How could she let that happen? "She was just a child."

"So were you."

"But I should have done _something_. I feel so guilty. These beatings were meant for me, not her."

"So you took your father's wrath years later through her to make up for it. What your father did to Bellatrix, what she did for you, it didn't give her the right to hurt you. You know that, don't you, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"In my head I do, but in here," she says and points towards her chest, "it's different."

Her soul mender nods, apparently understanding the disconnection between thoughts and feelings. "When did she start hurting you?"

"I was already seventeen, almost eighteen, I think. She had been part of the Death Eaters for four years at that point and Lucius and I had been married for six months. I think it was a combination of the both; her being with Riddle and me being with Lucius. It changed us individually and it changed our relationship. I closed myself off from everyone including her. She didn't like that. That's when it started."

"Do you remember the first time it happened?"

She scoffs. "Like it happened yesterday. It was after my first Occlumency lesson with _him_. I didn't do very well. I was so terrified of him and what he would see in my mind that I could barely focus. She was very displeased. I think she felt I embarrassed her in front of him. When the lesson was over and he'd left she …"

"We can go into the memory if you want," her soul mender suggests.

She nods and closes her eyes, feeling the tapping of Ms. Lovegood's hands on her knees.

…

"Stay like that."

She freezes momentarily, then closes the door. She turns her head slowly; looking over her shoulder she sees Hermione sitting in the old leather armchair. Dressed in a black suit, tailored to her feminine form, wine glass in hand, she looks too good to be true.

"Did I say you could turn your head?"

The dominant tone in her voice sends chills down Narcissa's spine and reduces her answer to a whispered "No."

"Then you shouldn't. Turn back around."

She closes her eyes as she moves her head back, breath hitching. Goddamn it she's been needing this. Excitedly she waits for the woman to make her next move, her _command_.

"Take your coat off."

She does; it pools around her feet.

For a while there is no sound but their breathing, slow and heavy, revealing the growing desire. "Show me what's underneath," Hermione says with a voice as low as Narcissa has ever heard it.

She pulls the sweater off over her head. It leaves her hair messy, but for once she couldn't care less. She bends down and undoes the shoelaces of her boots hastily. She steps out of them. If she had known this was going to happen, she would have worn a dress. She has yet to learn how to strip out of Muggle clothes gracefully. She pushes her jeans down in one go.

"Spin."

While she does she notices the fire in Hermione's eyes as she takes in her figure and hums appreciatively.

Hermione beckons her over. "Please me," she says.

Narcissa doesn't need to be told twice. Falling to her knees, she pulls Hermione's pants down to find nothing but sweet nakedness. Hermione's desire is clearly visible, laid out in front of her like a feast for a starving animal. The hand on her head pushes her right into that feast. She keeps her eyes locked with Hermione's while she tastes her, knowing that the pure devotion in her eyes alone can push Hermione over the edge. "Mmh, Cissa …" Her hips grind against her face. Narcissa knows she's getting close and just in that moment Hermione pulls her head away. Narcissa suppresses a chuckle. The woman doesn't like to lose control when she wants to be in control. Pulling her up by her hair, Hermione says, "Come with me. I have a surprise for you or rather _us_." She follows Hermione who heads toward a small room on the first floor, her study. Hermione opens the door and lets her enter first. She gasps at the sight. Where there used to be a desk and shelves of books and folders there are now chains, whips, leather furniture and a bed.

"You gave up your office for … this?" Her girlfriend absolutely loves her office, not as much as her library but it's a close second.

"I can work in my office in the Ministry." Hermione shrugs. "In fact I should only be working there and here I should be spending time with you, don't you think?" The suggestive smile on her lips makes Narcissa's skin tingle.

"I absolutely agree." The mere thought of all things they could do in here makes her heart beat faster. She steps inside and takes it all in for a while until she hears clicking. Hermione walks toward her, chains in hand. With a rise of her eyebrow Hermione asks for permission and Narcissa nods. Hermione puts the hand cuffs on her wrists. With a flick of her wand they extend and connect themselves to the ceiling. Narcissa clearly feels the stretching in her arms, but it's not uncomfortable. The witch steps up behind her, breath ghosting across her skin she shivers in anticipation. The light touch of a feather travels up her thigh, goosebumps spread across her skin. She hisses when the feather brushes against her core. The movement stops.

"I did not give you permission to make a sound, did I?" Hermione's voice is cold and stern.

"No. I'm sorry, Mistress." She feels herself blushing. _Mistress_ ; she never said it before and didn't meant to now.

"Well, since you obviously have trouble controlling yourself today, I think I might have something to help you keep quiet," Hermione says, gracefully ignoring her slip-up. From the wall at the far end she gets a gag and holds it out in front of Narcissa's face. "Is that alright with you?" she asks.

Narcissa appreciates the question because the gag will mean that she won't be able to use their safeword if necessary, but it doesn't scare her, it exictes her. "Yes. I trust you." She opens her mouth and Hermione puts the gag on her, fastens it on the back of her head. She can now neither move nor speak. The feeling of helplessness and complete surrender to the woman she loves makes her core throb. The gag chokes her without really choking her, but still, there's something frightening about it. Her breathing fastens rapidly.

"Shh, easy now, love. Relax. You look so beautiful like this." Hermione's lips ghost across her neck. "I think you deserve a little treat. Let's test that gag." Hermione hooks her fingers behind her panties and slides them down slowly. When they're off her fingers brush her legs back up, once they reach her thighs they are joined by the witch's lips. She nibbles her skin, bites and Narcissa wishes she could speak right now so she could beg her to go higher. When Hermione fulfills her unspoken whish she does so with firm strokes of her tongue. It sets her on fire; her head falls back, needy sounds slip past the gag. Hermione digs her nails into her thighs painfully. "You're not being a good girl today, Cissa. I might have to come up with harder measures."

It's the one thing she can't do, to keeep quiet during sex and, of course, her girlfriend knows this all too well. Hermione releases the chains from the ceiling and uses them to lead her over to a leather-clad bunk. A hard tug on the chains and she's bent over the length of the bunk. Hermione fastens the chains and steps up behind her, smoothly entering her with two fingers. She takes deep breaths, doing her best to remain silent despite the wonderful attention her g-spot is receiving. A third finger joins the others … and a fourth … Just as she realizes what's about to happen, she feels the entire hand enter her. She whimpers, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of being filled so thoroughly. She holds onto the edge of the bunk, bites down hard on the gag because she just knows Hermione is about to – for Salazar's sake! – curl her hand into a fist. One, two flicks to her clit and she contracts hard around Hermione's hand. They stay like that for a while, ravishing in the after waves of her orgasm that barely wants to subside. Only very slowly, reluctantly it seems, Hermione withdraws from her. The feeling of sudden emptiness makes her cry. Hermione undoes the gag and chains and cradles her from behind. "I love you so much," Narcissa says.

"I love you, too." Hermione presses a soft kiss to her neck.

Narcissa quickly uses some cleaning spells on herself and Hermione accios her lounge wear and helps her put it on. "Thank you." She kisses her, nibbling on her bottom lip, she pulls her close. "Come and cuddle with me on the sofa?"

Hermione chuckles. "If the world knew what a cuddler you are."

"Don't you dare. It'll be the last thing you do," she threatens jokingly.

They get comfortable on the sofa. Hermione immerses herself in some book again. Narcissa quickly drifts off into sleep, her head rising and falling with Hermione's breathing.

…

The sound of soft whispering voices wakes her. She sighs in contempt at the feeling of Hermione's fingers running through her hair, gently massaging her scalp. Wait a moment. Voices? Slowly she opens her eyes and sees a man with messy black hair and another one with messy ginger hair. She jerks upwards.

One of them chuckles. "Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Good evening, Potter. Weasly." The latter nods at her. The Weaslys have been knowing about their relationship for a couple of months now. They had read Skeeter's article and Hermione had no choice but to tell Ginerva. Word travelled from the youngest through the entire family, then. Their reaction worries Hermione to this very day. They didn't react badly, in fact, they didn't really react at all. It was more of a silent acknowledgement, which is exactly what has her girlfriend worried. She is just waiting for the big outburst. Narcissa figures they don't like them being together, but realize that Hermione is a grown woman and they don't have any say anymore in her relationships. At least, that's what she hopes.

"We were just discussing our case," Hermione says.

 _Our case_. She still doesn't like the sound of that. Kingsley allowed Hermione to join the Auror team that's working on Lucius' case a couple of weeks ago. She's only part of the research team – that was Narcissa's condition – but still she's not at all pleased about it. Although she knows that Hermione likes the work because she is dying to see Lucius in prison, Narcissa feels guilty. Her family has caused Hermione enough trouble and pain during the war. That should have been the end of it, but there was no talking her out of it. They don't talk much about it between the two of them. Just hearing Lucius' name makes her skin crawl at this point. Still, she can't deny she's not curious to know how it is going.

"And? Have you been able to gain any information about Lucius' whereabouts?" she asks.

"Not exactly. However …" Weasly shifts his gaze toward his friend and colleague.

"However," Potter jumps in, "we believe that something might be going on."

"Oh, something might be going on? I never would have guessed. Would you be so kind to be a tad bit more concrete, Mr. Potter?," she asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He rolls his eyes at her, but answers, "Lucius isn't the only former Death Eater that's gone missing. As part of our investigation we talked to several old Pureblood families, most of whom used to support Voldemort. As you know some of them are not imprisoned, but under house arrest if at all." It had not been possible to charge every single Death Eater. Just like after the first war some claimed to have been under the Imperius Curse, which is impossible to disprove. In other cases the Ministry simply couldn't provide enough evidence. War times are chaotic times. "Every time we came into their homes for a search or interrogation," Harry says, "the man of the house wasn't there. Their wives would have an explanation for their absence, of course. We didn't think much of it until it became a pattern." He hesitates a moment before he asks, "Do you know anything about this?"

"Harry! You can't possibly be suggesting that she has anything to do with this!" Hermione says.

"It's fine." Narcissa puts her hand on Hermione's whose cheeks are already flushed from anger.

"No, it's not fine, Narcissa. She is my partner," she says directed toward Harry. "Do you think I would be with her, if I believed for one second she was involved in something like that? If you knew her the way I do, you wouldn't-"

"But he doesn't," Narcissa cuts her off. "To answer your question, Mr. Potter, I know absolutely nothing about this matter. I had started to withdraw from our old social circle after the war ended and I have had no contact at all with any of the families you have in mind since I broke up with Lucius. This is the first time I'm hearing about this."

He nods. "I'm sorry but I had to ask."

She understands; it's his job. If she were in his position she would be way more suspicious.

An awkward silence stretches. The discussion they came here for is over and yet they are not leaving. Potter side-eyes Weasly a little too overtly. Reluctantly the youngest Weasly son pulls out an envelope and hands it to Hermione. "Mum and Dad are having a private Yule celebration next weekend. Just a nice little gathering of friends and family. We'd be happy if you came; both of you."

"I'll sure be there," Hermione says, smiling like a child.

"Me too," she chimes in.

The boys leave and she does some laundry while Hermione starts to make dinner . They fell into a routine easily as they started living together. They never moved in with each other officially. She simply spent more and more time at Hermione's and one day she just stayed. Living with Lucius used to be a very lonely thing, but she and Hermione are basically glued at the hip and it turned out to be the most wonderful thing.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun illuminates her skin, turns her hair into golden locks and her lips into honey. It's so tempting to just lean over and kiss her, but Narcissa can't. Well, she could, but that would ruin their appearance at the Ministry Yule ball tonight. It will be their first public appearance as a couple. Mind you they didn't exactly keep a low profile after the trial against Barnaby Smith was over. They've been out and about together a lot, giving people enough to keep the rumours going but not enough to confirm them. Heads turn wherever they appear together, mouths hush to each other. She is not sure whether the nature of these hushes and murmurs is positive or negative. They will see tonight, though. Right now they step into Bentham's finest robes for the final fitting of their dresses.

"Mrs. Malfoy, Ms. Granger, what a pleasure to see you again," Mrs. Bentham greets them.

Narcissa knows it's just an obligatory line, not sincere pleasure. The Benthams are one of the oldest Wizarding families in Britain and as such their families have always been close. Ever since she parted from Lucius, however, a lot of old Purbelood families have grown distant toward her and she can only imagine how they feel about someone like Hermione. Narcissa used to be surprised when the her girlfriend suggested to go into old prestigious shops like these, but she quickly learned that her girlfriend enjoys making these people uncomfortable with her sheer presence and the fact that her Gringott's vault is just as full as theirs.

"I put the final touches on your dresses just this morning. If you will excuse me a minute, I will get them for you to try on."

As Mrs. Bentham rushes into the back of the shop, Hermione remains glued on the spot, looking rather bored. She has zero interest in fashion as Narcissa learned quickly. She on the other hand strolls around the shop, taking a look at the gowns on the mannequins. She stops at one of them, a wedding dress, admiring the extravagant lace work. From the corner of her eye she catches Hermione watching her and blushes, turning away from the dress at once. Mrs. Bentham returns with the dressers and gets the changing rooms ready for them. Narcissa wishes she would hurry. As much as she tries to avoid it, her eyes keep drifting back to that dress. Hermione steps up behind her and whispers, "Is that the kind of dress you would wear, if we ever got married?" and renders her speechless.

Narcissa clears her throat, whispering back, "Possibly." Her face feels all hot.

"Ms. Granger," Mrs. Bentham calls out, "your dress is ready for you try on."

Hermione tilts her head, looking pensive. "I like it," she states and goes off into the dressing room.

Merlin, why on earth does a wedding dress catch her attention so much? Marriage – it is way too early to think about that. Besides, she isn't even divorced yet.

"Mrs. Malfoy, your dress is ready as well."

She blinks a few times, shaking these fuzzy thoughts from her head, and steps into the dressing room.

"Let me assist you," Mrs. Bentham says. "It's like a second skin. You'll never get it on just by yourself."

Mrs. Bentham steps into the chamber as well and Narcissa starts undressing. Carefully she steps into the dress, which is indeed impossibly tight. Bentham does up the buttons on the back, then steps in front of her. Narcissa watches her doing little adjustments here and there.

Suddenly Bentham hisses, "Stop that!"

Narcissa raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Stop looking at me like that. I don't swing that way."

Wow. "You are the one touching me," Narcissa says suggestively.

"I am just doing the necessary adjustments."

"On my nipples?"

Benthams turns bright red. "I am not that depraved," she snaps.

"Don't worry, Bentham. I don't go for the plump type; I like them young and lean," she says. Bentham looks exasperated and leaves the dressing room without doing the final adjustments. In the dressing room next to her she hears Hermione snorting. Soon after the witch slythers into her dressing room.

"And? What do you think?" Narcissa asks, looking at herself in the mirror. It is a black mermaid dress with lace sleeves and a very, very deep cleavage.

"Divine," Hermione says and wraps her arms around her. "Like a dark temptress."

Narcissa smiles. She likes that notion. "What about your dress?" Hermione is already back in her casual clothes.

"Oh, it's fine." She does a waving motion with her hand as if it doesn't matter.

"So, what do you think?" Mrs. Bentham calls out to them and they hear her approaching.

Jumping apart they simultaneously say, "We'll take them."

…

"Honey? We're gonna be late."

Narcissa rolls her eyes. Some things never change. She does the final touches on her make up. Hermione's image appears in the mirror in front of her and she stops her motions. "Merlin, you look beautiful." She's wearing a soft dream of ivory and glitter.

"Like light and darkness," Hermione says, looking at both their reflections.

"You are my light."

Hermione smiles and places a kiss on her cheek. "Are you ready to go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Narcissa sighs. She no longer feels the same way about these events as she used to. When she was young they excited her with their grandeur, glamour and important people. Nowadays they just seem exhausting. "Just don't leave my side," she tells Hermione.

"I won't."

They arrive at the Ministry about half an hour late. The numb sound of music and chatting hits them immediately as they step out of one of the fire places.

"May I take your coats, ladies?" One of the butlers takes their coats and invitations. "Please take the elevators to the first floor. My collegues will be awaiting you there. Enjoy your evening."

A couple of more people arrive at the fire places and Hermione and she hurry toward the elevators to catch one just for themselves. Narcissa makes good use of the ride by sliding her hand over Hermione's hips and her butt. Hermione chuckles. The elevator stops at the first level. They pass the short distance over red carpet to reach two grand doors. Two Ministry workers hold the doors open for them and they step into the grand ball room. It doesn't take long until people notice their presence and start talking, among them no other than Rita Skeeter. The woman makes her nauseous, but at least she can be sure that the news of this evening will have reached everyone by tomorrow morning. For the first time in a long time a set up like this actually makes her slightly nervous. That is until she spots the first and most familiar face of her son, who is, surprisingly, sitting and chatting vividly with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasly. The youngest Weasly daughter is there as well.

"Come on," Hermione says, "let's join them before some boring Ministry bloke chats us up." With her hand on the small of her back Hermione leads them towards the table.

"Hello darling," Narcissa addresses Draco and leans down to kiss his cheek, but -

"Mother! Not here."

She raises her eyebrow.

"Forget it, Malfoy," Ronald Weasly says. "You'll never change them."

She winks at Weasly and does press a kiss to Draco's cheek.

"Sorry we interrupted your conversation, guys. It looked very animated. What were you talking about?" Hermione wants to know.

"I was asking them about their professions and the whole application process," Draco says. "I eh … well, I was thinking about joining the Auror programme."

"That's amazing, Draco!" Hermione says.

"I thought you wanted to take over your father's business," Narcissa says. This takes her completely by surprise.

"Yeah, I did, but times change, don't they?"

"They certainly do." She doesn't fail to notice the melancholy in his eyes.

They chat nicely for a while. She holds back mostly. The contact with Potter, his wife and the Weasly boy is still rather unfamiliar to her. They're different these people. At the beginning she was wondering what their agenda was, now, she starts to think they don't have one. They're straight forward. She knows how to navigate conversations with the Pureblood high society. She knows how to play those games, but just being herself? That still makes her feel insecure. She places her hand over Hermione's and squeezes her as she always does when she grows uncomfortable. This earns her a cold stare from Ginerva Potter which she returns with just as much coldness and an unspoken threat. She will never again let someone tell her whom she can and cannot show affection towards. No one else is bothered by the display of affection, both the two Aurors and her son have long gotten used to it, only the Weasly daughter keeps on making a face.

"Is something bothering you, Ginny?" The table falls silent at Hermione's question. Once again, Narcissa is amazed by Hermione's forwardness.

"Yes, there are two things here bothering me," the youngest Weasly says. "One in particular," she says looking straight at her.

"You are a free woman, Mrs. Potter," Narcissa says. "If something is bothering you, you are free to leave."

"You have some nerve, Malfoy. _You're_ the problem, so why should I leave?" Ginerva leans over the table, now, her brows furrow. "Just tell me, what is your game here? Why Hermione of all people? Trying to fuck your way back into society?"

"This is beneath me." Narcissa gets up with as much grace as she can muster and leaves the table, having absolutely no nerve for juvenile jibes like these. Hermione and Harry are calling her name, asking her to stay, but she doesn't care. She needs a minute to herself and steps out onto the large balcony; the cold evening air immediately calms her down. This is exactly what she has been afraid of. It's not the insult, the insinuation that hurts her. She knows it's false and she knows that Hermione knows. It's the fact that she causes Hermione pain, not actively of course, but still, had Hermione chosen someone else for a partner she wouldn't have to go through this. And she shouldn't have to at such a young age. She should be enjoying life and an easy, fun relationship. Sometimes, Narcissa feels like she is holding her back.

The sound of footsteps on the concrete disturbs the silence. Draco joins her, carrying two glasses of Firewhisky; he hands her one. "Still sure you wanna marry into that family?"

She chuckles instantly. She loves Draco's dry humour. "I can assure you I'll never ever marry a Weasly. Only over my dead body."

"You know how they are. They're all family. If you marry Granger, you're part of it."

She swirls the liquid around in its glass, then takes a zip. "Who said anything about getting married anyway?"

Draco looks at her with a pensive expression as if reading her. "I don't think you're the type to be the eternal girlfriend. And she seems very possessive of you."

"We'll see." Narcissa smiles to herself. She has to admit she likes the idea of being a wife to Hermione. No, she doesn't like it, she _loves_ it. One would think that life had scared her off of marriage, but something deep inside her wants to belong and belong to that woman only.

"You didn't say anything when I said I wanted to become an Auror," Draco interrupts her thoughts.

"Don't mistake my silence for disregard. I was just surprised. What brought about this decision?"

Draco turns away from her and says, "I want to see him behind bars; father."

She almost drops her drink. "Draco, you don't have to do this. It's not your responsibility to make sure he gets what he deserves."

"I know, but I want to. Sometimes I hate him, mother, for what he did to you." After a moment he adds, "And to me."

Hearing that hurts her. The anger, the need for revenge is understandable, but hunting down one's own father? She doesn't like the idea.

"And it's not just him," Draco continues. "When I see Andromeda with Teddy, when I see what Hermione has done for you … To think that there are people who want to … eliminate them and we supported that. I have to do something to make that right."

"If that's what you want, you have my unconditional support."

"Thank you. I'll need it. I don't think the Auror team will welcome someone like me with open arms."

"We really haven't set up an easy path for you, have we?"

Draco shrugs. "I mean, it could have been worse. Look at the shit Potter had to do."

They both laugh out loud, but the laughter dies in her throat as a piercing pain shoots through her head. Chest constricting, breath coming in short, she grabs the banister behind her to keep herself up.

"Are you okay, mother?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a migraine coming up. I'll just … Excuse me a minute, please." She hurries off to the bathroom. Hurrying is an exaggeration. She can barely walk straight; the pain is so numbing, blinding. Staggering down a hallway, following the loo sign, her stomach clenches, bile rises, she enters the bathroom, bursts into the first cubicle and vomits. She doesn't know for how long she is hinged over the toilet, but eventually she's not heaving anything but clear bile. Exhausted she leans against the wall. Pressing her hands over her eyes, she blinks away tears, overwhelmed by the pain. What on earth is this? She has not been taking these headaques seriously, but now she's getting worried. She'll need to go see a healer. She gets up from the floor and steps in front of the basin to freshen herself up and clean her teeth with a flick of her wand. The door opens.

"Are you ok?," Hermione asks, stepping inside. "Draco said you weren't well."

"I'm fine, now. I was just feeling nauseous."

"I hope it's not because of what just happened. I'm very sorry for the way Ginny behaved."

There's a sad look on Hermione's face that Narcissa has never seen before in the witch, who is usually so full of confidence and optimism. "Are you sure this is what you want?" she asks.

"What do you mean?"

"Your friends hate me."

"Harry and Ron don't hate you!" Hermione protests.

"True, Harry doesn't, but Ginerva does and her brother isn't too happy about us either. I can feel it no matter how polite is trying to be. You're fighting with your friend because of me. It shouldn't be this way. We haven't made this official yet. You can still back out, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes flicker with astonishment, followed by confusion. She closes the distance between them and takes Narcissa's hands in her own. "No, I can't." The witch cups her cheek, caresses her skin. "I love you. I find it hard to convey just how much." She kisses her in an all consuming way that conveys the extent of her love and when they break the kiss, Narcissa sways a little. "I couldn't be without you. I literally couldn't."

"Neither could I." Narcissa is deeply touched by the declaration and the knowledge that Hermione feels the same way. Occasionaly, she felt alone in this. Not that she ever doubted Hermione's love for her, but the extent to which her love has deepened so quickly scared her sometimes, wondering just how mutual it was.

"Let's go back and join the others. Ginny has left, so there should be no more trouble tonight."

Though she is sad that one of Hermione's friends has left because of her, she is also glad. She wants to enjoy their first night out together. By the time they have come back, Draco is still absent from the table, but Minister Shaklebolt has joined, talking importantly, all eyes of the boys on him. The talk dies as soon as she sits down. "It's alright," Hermione says, taking her hand for everyone to see. "She's going to know anyway."

"I see," the Minister acknowledges the gesture with no indication of judgement. He sighs before he resumes in a low tone, "The situation is gradually getting worse. Just this morning Dementors strayed from Azkaban against our order, of course. At first, we thought we were just dealing with a violent husband on the run - no offence, Mrs. Malfoy - now, though with high-rankend Death Eaters missing, Dementors leaving …"

"You think the Death Eaters are rejoing," Narcissa finishes his thought.

"But Voldemort's dead," Harry says. "Who are they supposed to rally behind?"

"I'm wondering the same," the Minister says. "It's unlikely that they can organize themselves without a strong leader. Still, it is a possibility we have to consider. Please don't be offended, Mrs. Malfoy, but since you were so close to the inner circle of Voldemort, do you think it possible for them to reunite?"

"I'm not sure, Minister. The recent incidents are worrying indeed, but I agree with Mr. Potter. The Death Eaters followed the Dark Lord for either one of two reasons: fear or pure devotion. In either case they were followers, not leaders. I don't think they would be able to organize themselves without a persona such as Voldemort was."

"I agree," the Minister nods and the heavy conversation is interrupted as the doors open and an army of waiters marches in to serve dinner. Draco rushes over to them just in time as plates with the most delicious looking food are placed in front of them. The conversation continues smoothly over dinner. They discuss the current political events and chat more lightly about the latest Ministry gossip, after the Minister has moved on to the next table that is.

"Oh, I love this melody," Hermione says as the band strikes up a slow waltz. She cocks an eyebrow at her. "I think this is the perfect moment. Will you join me for a dance?" she asks, offering her hand.

"With pleasure."

Hermione leads her to the dance floor. It is crowded, but the crowd parts for them, Hermione's presence being just as demanding as her own. She places her hand on Hermione's shoulder, the witch places her hand on her waist and they start a slow dance. Though people try to be discrete, Narcissa can feel them eyeing the both of them. She tries to ignore them, to focus rather on the feeling of their bodies moving together, the dance getting more intimate as she throws her arms around Hermione's neck and the witch pulls her closer by her waist. That's when she hears the first whispers. They turn into gasps as Hermione presses a kiss to her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her lips and she responds eagerly. They get lost in the moment. Soon Hermione's hands wander to the small of her back and even lower. She breaks the kiss. "Easy now, young horses," she whispers against her lips. "We want to make a statement, not a scandal." From the corner of her eye, she already sees Rita Skeeter talking excitedly to her self-writing quill.

"Fine." The witch pouts. When the song stops, Hermione gives her a hand kiss and they go back to their table.

Harry pours them all a glass of Firwhisky. "Congratulations, ladies." Her raises his glass. "To a bright future." They all join in on the toast.

"Yes, congratulations, Mrs. Malfoy." Luna Lovegood sits down next to her.

"Ms. Lovegood, thank you. I feel so relieved to finally be honest about every aspect of my life."

"I'm sure you do. I was referring to the Wrackspurts, though."

"Come again?"

"The Wrackspurts in your head. They're significantly lower in numbers than the last time I saw you."

"Oh, well, I'm glad to hear that," she says, smirking. Hermione next to her clasps her hand over her mouth, struggling to keep her drink down.

"That's a lovely dress, Luna," her girlfriend compliments the witch, though Narcissa isn't sure whether the compliment is sincere. The blonde witch is donning a long, floaty slivery dress that is covered in tiny pearls in all colours imaginable. An assembly of crystals in sun shape dangle from her ears.

"Thanks, Hermione. It's from Tilda Thirdthorn."

"Who?" Narcissa asks.

"Tilda Thirdthorn. She's an extraordinary designer from Dublin. I'll send an owl with her details."

"That would be lovely, Ms. Lovegood." That poor bird. It'll fly all the way in vain.

The waiters enter the hall once more, bringing in a wonderful collection of desserts. Hermione has finished hers in a matter of a few minutes and steals bits from her plate. Just as Narcissa swaps her hand away, giggling, Neville Longbottom joins them, taking the seat next to Luna. The mood for playful banter leaves her immediately. Though the young man is deeply engaged in a conversation with his girlfriend, seemingly paying Narcissa no mind, she stiffens and continues her desert in silence. Hermione whispers, "What's wrong?" She nods her head in his direction.

"Neville, it's good to see you here," Hermione says loudly.

Merlin no, why did she have to do that?

"Hermione!" The wizard beams from ear to ear. "Good to see you, too. It's been ages." Then, he extends his hand toward her. "Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa stares at his hand for a moment, not having expected the gesture. "Good evening." They shake hands. When their hands part she holds his gaze. She could just leave it at that, gracefully slip back into some light conversation, but it doesn't feel right. "Mr. Longbottom, these words will seem incredibly benign and meaningless, but I am truthfully sorry for what Bellatrix did to your parents."

"It's alright. You don't have to apologize for the actions of your sister, Mrs. Malfoy. We don't choose our relatives, do we?"

"Thank you. That is very generous of you."

Hermione leans into her. "He's a remarkable young man, isn't he?"

Indeed. Narcissa can only nod in awe.

They spend the rest of the night with light conversation, dancing and laughing.

…

 _Pop_.

Hermione has just popped a bottle of wine. They came back from the celebration just a few minutes ago. "You still haven't had enough?" Narcissa asks.

"We need to celebrate on a day like this," she answers, handing her a glass filled with the red liquid.

"With this?" Narcissa puts on her best haughty expression.

"What's wrong with a good vintage, _Lady_ Malfoy?"

"Oh nothing," she responds non-chalantly and takes a zip. "I was thinking of something much more exquisite, though." She places the glass on the side board and reaches behind herself to undo the zipper of her dress, saying in a husky voice, "Something like this." The dress slides off her, revealing black lace lingerie and stockings.

"Exquisite indeed."

Without a word Narcissa sashays towards the bedroom. Sure enough, Hermione sneaks her arms around her from behind as soon as they've entered. She turns her head back, pulling the witch in for a kiss while hands skim over her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. Hermione pushes her backwards until her legs hit the bed and she falls onto it on her stomach. Hermione pushes her hair to the sides, nibbles on her ear, her neck and Narcissa shivers under her touch, her _bite_ , affirming her dominant nature. Narcissa turns around under her. While she distracts her with a mind-fogging tongue kiss she reverses their positions. She has a change of game in mind for tonight. She nibbles on her bottom lip, making the witch gasp. As her tongue touches sweet velvet she pulls her wand from her garter and flicks it. Hermione breaks the kiss. "What the hell …" Robes twist themselves around Hermione's wrists and then to the bed posts. "Sure you can play this game, sweetie?"

"Oh darling, you got yourself a Slytherin. You bet your pretty arse I can." She leaves the witch for a moment to unclip her garters from her stockings and slide her panties down her thighs, calves and tosses them off her feet. "Now," she says and straddles the witch's face, "put that mouth to better use." Hermione nuzzles her thigh, Narcissa slaps her lightly. "Get to the point." She will be the one doing the teasing tonight and Hermione is surprisingly willing to fulfill her demand, flicking her tongue rapidly. "Mmh, that's more like it ..." Before she gets too close to her climax, she moves down to straddle the witch's hips. Reaching under Hermione's dress, she pulls down her panties. "You know," she says as she grabs her wand once more, "while I was doing research in the Black library the other day, I came across an old book with some rather _exciting_ spells."

"Research, mh?"

"Mh, very tough research." She winks and raises her wand. "May I?"

Hermione nods. "Do whatever you have in mind."

She kisses Hermione and does the incantation silently. _Amorem Unificarum_. Soon enough she feels it against her core and watches Hermione look down at her enlarged clitoris in fascination. "Let's see how it feels." She reaches down and strokes Hermione's clit lightly,

"Ah!" The witch throws her head back.

"Sensitive?"

"Very," Hermione hisses.

That'll require a change of plan, then. She does want her to last longer than two minutes after all. She guides Hermione inside her right away instead of giving her head. Groaning at the intrusion, she impales herself on her girlfriend slowly, deeper with every movement of her hips until Hermione is fully seated inside her. She holds still for a moment, relishing the feeling of being filled so thoroughly. Hermione leans up to kiss her, as much as she can, and Narcissa meets her lips passionately. Hermione moans into her mouth as she begins to grind. Hermione breaks the kiss, head thrown back she gasps for air as Narcissa pounces faster on her, now. She can tell Hermione is getting close to her climax, but she can't have that yet. So she slips off her and instead grinds her most sensitive spot on Hermione's clit. The woman responds to that with a frustrated groan and Narcissa couldn't care less. This feels way too good. The last thing she sees before her eyes flutter shut is Hermione watching her in awe as she comes undone. She rests her head on Hermione's chest, catching her breath.

Hermione bucks her hips. "Please, Cissa …"

"Please what, honey?" she fakes ignorance.

"Please, I wanna be inside of you?"

"Who knew that you could ask so nicely …" She undoes the bonds and says, "Take me then."

Hermione rolls them over and reaches for her own wand.

"What are you gonna … _Oh_ … _Fuck_ " Strong vibrations set her core on fire.

"I know a spell or two of my own," Hermione says smugly and enters her. She picks up a slow rhythm.

"You can be a lot rougher with me."

Hermione places light kisses along her jawline. "I want to make love to you, tonight, if you would like that."

"Yes, please," she says and moves her hips in rhythm with Hermione's.


	3. Chapter 3

"Cof …"

"What was that?"

Eyes still tightly shut Narcissa can only tell from the proximity of the voice that Hermione is right in front of her; probably kneeling in front of the bed with a goofy smile on her face. "Coffe," she repeats.

"And could little Cissy speak in whole sentences, please?"

"I need coffe for Merlin's sake!" Very reluctantly she opens her eyes to look into the laughing face of Hermione.

"Here you go."

Propping herself up against the headboard, Narcissa accepts the steaming hot cup gratefully. "Thank you. You're a star."

"And," Hermione says and reaches behind herself, "I thought you would want to see this." She hands her the morning edition of the Prophet.

Unbelievable. They've really made the front page. "You would think that with everything that's going on at the moment there would be more important things to report about than two witches in love."

"Might be on purpose." Hermione settles into bed next to her with a cup of coffee of her own. "The war has ended not too long ago when you think about it. People are still sensitive. If news got out about the latest development …"

"Exactly. Don't these stories about disappearances, Dementor attacks and such fit right in the Prophet's lust for drama, angst, scaremongering …. I find it hard to believe that they would hold back out of a sense of empathy."

"Me too, but maybe Shaklebolt pulled some strings. Wouldn't be the first time. Anyway", Hermione says and gestures toward the article about them, "what do you think? Satisfied?"

"Well, we certainly look stunning in that photograph." It shows them dancing in slow motion, tightly entangled.

"Agreed. Skeeter asked a lot of people on their opinion. Look, she even got Draco." Hermione points towards a quote at the top of the article. " _The relationship was certainly unexpected, though, I couldn't be happier for my mother. They complement each other perfectly. I haven't seen her so happy in a long time,_ " she reads. "Who knew the ferret could be so charming?"

Narcissa mock slaps her arm. "I did." She skims the article. "Seems to be rather well-intented." Something about opposites attract, love against all odds and other dramatics.

"Mh, there are _some_ less well-meaning statements though." Hermione pauses, and then adds, "mostly from old acquaintances of yours." She points to another part of the article. "Here, for example."

Narcissa reads,

" _I was completely shocked. Narcissa and I have known each other for ages, but never would I have seen this coming. Her latest attractions are frivolous enough as is, but to act them out with_ that _… It is beneath her. To_ _tarnish_ _the noble Black lineage in such way is disgusting," says Helena Sewlyn of the prestigious Sewlyn family who has kept close ties with both the Blacks and Malfoys for centuries._

"She referred to you as a _that,_ " Narcissa states in disbelief.

Hermione merely shrugs. "Stupid ignorant racists being stupid ignorant racists. What else is new?"

What's new is that Narcissa is now with a Muggleborn when she used to be a part of these people. How many times has she sat there silently while others, those closest to her, referred to people like Hermione as _Mudbloods_. She had never found pleasure in such foul degrading language, but she never second-guessed it either. The term had been thrown around so carelessly ever since she was a child, it used to be normality.

"Does it hurt you?" Hermione's question pulls her out those thoughts. "Do you know her well?"

"She's a Hogwarts friend, but we haven't been in touch in years, certainly not since the war." What hurts is the fact that those are the kind of people she used to keep company with, call friends. "You're very lucky, you know, to have such friends like you do. With Purebloods it's mostly about power, not actual friendship."

"I'm sorry." Hermione puts her arm around her and Narcissa rests her head on her chest. "You have better people in your life, now. Speaking of which, do you still want to go to the Weasly's tonight? I would understand if you didn't with everything that happened with Ginny yesterday."

"Of course I'd like to join you. I'm not afraid of a too hot-headed ginger." She chuckles. "I've dealt with worse. But if you'd rather celebrate Yule without the tension, I'd-"

"Rubbish," Hermione cuts her off. "Ginny will get used to you, to _us_. If she doesn't, I'll know how much her friendship was worth."

"Yule celebrations at the Burrow it is, then." To be completely honest, she isn't truly looking forward to it. Spending an evening with the Weaslys isn't exactly high on her to-do list. However, she wants to get to know them and get along with them for Hermione's sake..

"If it makes you feel better, Molly invited Andy as well," Hermione says.

That makes her feel better indeed.

…

„Muggle clothes?" Hermione cocks an eyebrow. "So casual on top of that."

"Well, I thought it might be more appropriate for the occasion." Narcissa's wearing beige cargo pants, a white blouse and a long grey cardigan, everything is borrowed from Andy.

"They'll certainly like that better than your usual robes. The Weaslys don't like show-offs."

"Did you just call me a show-off?"

"Mh, I might have, a very lovely show-off, though." Hermione kisses her on the forehead. "Let's go." She goes to the pantry in the hallway and Narcissa watches in horror as she takes out two broomsticks.

"You've got to be joking."

"Unfortunately not. There are Apparition wards on the Burrow and the area around ever since the Death Eaters set it on fire."

Narcissa feels a lump grow in her throat at this information. She hadn't known. They had set so much on fire, one more place wasn't worth mentioning or maybe she had stopped listening eventually. A foreboding feeling settles inside her; this evening might not going be easy. Swallowing her nerves, she asks a more practical question: "Why don't we use the floo network?"

"Their fireplace is broken."

"Of course it is," she mumbles.

"Oh come on, a bit of fresh air won't hurt you." Hermione hands her a broomstick, steps out on the balcony and mounts her own.

Narcissa eyes the broomstick in her hand like she's never seen one before.

"Afraid the wind will ruin your hair?"

"It's not that!" she responds a bit angrily. Does everyone around her really mistake her for so shallow, thinking appearance is the only thing she cares about?

"Cissa, what's wrong?"

"It's just that … I can't really fly." She blushes.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean?" she says frustrated. She feels embarrassed enough as is without dumb questions. "I mean that I don't know how to fly."

"But you had lessons at Hogwarts, didn't you?"

"My parents forbade it. They found it inappropriate for a witch to sit like that."

"Good Godric." Hermione rolls her eyes. "And Hogwarts accepted that? I cannot imagine Dumbledore would have ever-"

"I would have thought you'd realized by now Dumbledore wasn't the saint a lot of his followers believed him to be." Sometimes, it baffles her how blindly a lot of the Order members followed his every word without questioning it, assuming that he only ever had good intentions. Come to think of it, they weren't so different from Voldemort's followers in that regard."Anyway, Hogwarts certainly didn't have any objection when one of the oldest and _richest_ families asked for an exception There was a lot of corruption going on."

Hermione doesn't respond to that. Narcissa can only imagine what it must feel like to put your trust in a man for so many years only to realize he was never completely honest with you. "Well, flying is the only way," Hermione says, "so I guess we'll have to share this one. Come on." Hermione motions for her to mount the broomstick as well. She does, gripping Hermione firmly around the waist. "Fair warning, though, I'm not the best flyer myself, so hold on tight." They set off into the chill autumn air of the evening. The height is scaring her, she has Hermione in a death grip, but the witch doesn't complain. London looks like a miniature model beneath them, beautiful in its buzzing traffic and bright lights. Silence settles more and more as they go from the metropolis to towns, villages and finally large fields. Soon the Burrow appears, standing out oddly on these plain grounds. Hermione starts the decline fast, too fast.

"Honey, I think you need to slow down," Narcissa suggests.

"I am!"

"Maybe a bit mo- oh dear." The ground grows closer terrifyingly fast now and before she knows it they crash, falling of the broom, rolling around until they come to lay flat on their backs. They lay on the grass spread out like an eagle, panting.

"Warned you I wasn't a good flyer," Hermione mumbles, catching her breath. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think so. What about you?"

"Still in one piece."

They quickly get up and brush pieces of grass off their clothes. As they walk towards the Burrow Narcissa gets a bit tense. Will the rest of the Weaslys be accepting of her, or at least polite? What are they going to talk about? She has nothing in common with these people. By the time they've reached the door she's outright nervous.

Hermione simply pushes the door open – who leaves their door unlocked? – and enters. She follows behind.

"Hermione! So lovely to see you, dear!" Molly Weasly hugs Hermione tightly and soon her girlfriend is engulfed by several Weaslys. Narcissa remains standing in the door frame, unsure what to do, where to go.

"Mrs. Malfoy, it's good to see you!" Harry Potter – the boy who saved the day.

"I think we're past that. Please call me Narcissa. And it's good to see you, too."

"Very well, Narcissa, let me take your coat." After he has put her coat away he beckons her over to sit with him and a young couple that she recognizes to be Bill Weasly and Fleur Delacour.

The part-Veela gets up and extends her hand to her. "Mrs. Malfoy, trés enchanté. It is a great pleasure and honor to meet you." She bows slightly with a dignity and pride that only Veelas are capable of. The room has fallen quiet at Delacour's uttering. Most here probably don't share the sentiment of pride and honor in having her here.

Narcissa accepts the hand. "The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Delacour." Not only that the Weaslys don't like her to be here, they probably also don't like the unspoken acknowledgement of the close ties that have existed between the Delacours and the Blacks. Being a Rosier Druella Black brought a lot of connections to prestigious French families with her once she married into the Black family. To say the families were friends would be an exaggeration, they were more like old allies, supporting each other through power, finances or marriage as it is usual among old Pureblood families.

Accepting the Butterbeer that Harry is handing her, she sits down next to the spot where Harry was sitting mere seconds ago, though now it is occupied by Fleur. The witch sends the clearly confused Potter a death glare and he quickly grabs another chair and sits close to them. The corner of Narcissa's mouth twitches slightly upwards at the eagerness the Veela shows. She remembers all too well being her age and being introduced personally to the big household names she had been hearing about all her childhood. "Allow me to say this, Mrs. Malfoy, when I heard about your relationship with Hermione I was pleasantly surprised. Not that Hermione isn't a remarkable witch herself," Delacour says quickly as Hermione looks at her questioningly from across the room, "but that she was able to court you … _extraordinaire._ Mon Dieu, what a wonderful couple you are."

"You're very flattering, Mrs. Delacour," Narcissa says, breathing slowly in an effort to stop a blush from occurring on her face. She has heard a lot about the legendary Veela thrall, but to experience it first hand is another story. "However, I am just as lucky to be with Hermione as she is to be with me, if not more."

"Trés vrais, madame, trés vrais. If only everyone could see that," she says now more coldly.

"Darling, please …," Bill Weasly says.

"Wat? It iz true. Thiz iz rude." She gestures towards the Weaslys who have gathered in another corner of the room far away from them.

"Fleur is right," Arthur Weasly says and comes over to them. "I apologize for our behavior. It is a pleasure to have you here."

Now that has to be quite the exaggeration, but she appreciates the gesture. She says, "It is quite alright, Mr. Weasly. Some pains are not forgotten easily. I understand."

"Pains …" Molly Weasly scoffs. "I lost my son because of her family," she mumbles.

"And I lost my sister because of you," Narciss says directed right at the Weasly matriarch.

"Excuse me? I was merely defending my daughter. And you cannot possibly compare our pains. I am mourning my son while you are mourning a vicious murderer."

"No, I am mourning my _sister_ , but I didn't expect you to understand the difference."

"Sister? You're talking about me, Cissy?" Andromeda has just walked in through the front door. Perfect timing. A rush of a sight that she reckons is Teddy runs past her and into Harry's arms. Her sister comes toward her and hugs her tightly.

"Thank God you're here," Narcissa mumbles in her ear.

"What were you talking about?" Andy whispers.

"Bella."

"Oh dear." Andy loosens her grip on her, but keeps an arm around her.

"I don't understand how you do it, Andromeda," Molly says. "The very cause she supported is responsible for your husband's and daughter's death. How can you stand there next to her?"

"These things are very complex, Molly." Andy's grip on her tightens once more as she speaks. "They cannot be explained or solved in a few lines, but Narcissa and I have long come to a deep understanding for each other. I can assure you that she renounced the Black ways a very long time ago."

"As can I," Hermione confirms Andy's statement. When Narcissa looks at her, Hermione mouths _I am sorry_ and she mouths _It's fine_ back at her. This is really anyone's fault, but Hermione's.

"Come on, everyone," Andy says. "Let's put our differences aside for tonight, please. It's Yule after all. Harry, be so kind and help me with these, will you?" Andy points toward a huge bag of presents in her left hand that she can barely lift.

"Yes", George chimes in, "let's get to the best part of the evening!"

"George, this evening is not about presents!" Mrs. Weasly reproaches him.

"Of course not, Mum," he says, but starts distributing presents of his own.

Everyone slowly gathers around in a circle and takes a seat on a sofa or chair. There's not enough room for everyone. When she looks at Hermione, the witch pats her lap, gesturing for her to sit on it. She does, without failing to notice the look she gains from Ginerva. "Are you sure they can handle this much affection?" she asks Hermione.

"They're gonna have to handle a lot more," Hermione responds. "You know I can't keep my hands off you."

"Dito." Narcissa's hand is already playing with her hair.

Everyone is exchanging gifts in no particular order. She notices Harry and Ron exchanging rather annoyed looks as they unwrap a pair of knitted sweaters.

"They get one every year," Hermione whispers in her ear and she chuckles. Seems like Molly Weasly has a hobby.

"This is for you." Hermione takes a little wooden box out of her purse. It has their initials engraved on it. "I did that myself," Hermione says pointing them out.

"I can tell," she says, smirking. It looks like a child carved it.

"Hey, I tried. It's the thought that counts."

"Of course." She opens the box. Inside is a thin glass flask that contains a silvery-white liquid.

"It's a memory of mine," Hermione explains. "A memory of the first time I saw you. Well, technically it wasn't the first time I saw you, of course, but it was the first time I truly saw _you_."

She knows immediately what Hermione means. "The night you took me home."

"Yes. I enchanted it. When you look at it in a Pensieve you will not simply see, but you will feel everything I felt that night."

Too emotional to speak she simply kisses her, her lips lingering on the witch's. She kisses her cheek then and buries her face in the crook of her neck. "Thank you. I can't wait to dive into it."She feels stupid now, as she pulls out the present she got for Hermione. "It doesn't really compare …"

"Don't," Hermione stops her. "This is not a competition." She takes the small box Narcissa is holding out and opens it. She gasps. "My God, it's beautiful."

"May I?" Narcissa asks and the witch nods. She takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto the witch's index finger. The ring's band is made from solid gold adorned with runes, the stone a black diamond. "It's a making of the Black family ring. It's an old tradition of my family. These rings contain the blood of members of the Black line. This one contains Draco's, Andy's and mine. Just think of one of us and we will be able to Apparate to wherever you are, if you should need us. And …" She hesitates. This is the part she hopes Hermione won't misunderstand. "As it contains Black blood it will give you access to any Black properties."

"It's amazing." Hermione kisses her and whispers, "Thank you."

The evening continues rather smoothly from there on. Dinner is simple but so delicious, she can't help but compliment Molly on it. Always having relied on elves, she has no idea how the matriarch managed to pull this off on her own. Spirits are high. As everyone is chatting more and more vividly among themselves, Narcissa grows more quiet. Something about the set up makes her feel sad? Melancholic? She can't quite figure it out. After the main course she excuses herself. "It's so hot in here. I'm just going to catch a bit of fresh air," she tells Hermione. She steps out through the front door and takes a couple of steps out into the fields. The cold wind hits her face, making chills run down her spine that she enjoys. The chatter becomes quieter out here and the sadness louder. She doesn't know for how long she's been standing here before she hears footsteps behind her, though they're muffled by the grass.

"Mrs. Malfoy?"

She startles at the sound of Molly Weasly's voice. She had not expected _her_ to come outside.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, but desert's ready." Molly seems to be studying her and her cold look suddenly changes, it grows concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Of course," she answerers, irritated. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Mrs. Weasly simply gestures toward Narcissa's face. She pats at it, wetness coating her fingers. She has been so wrapped up in her thoughts, she hasn't noticed she's been crying. Hiding her face from Mrs. Weasly she dries her tears on the sleeve of her cardigan.e

"I apologize for my behavior. I-" Molly stops herself and Narcissa can't help but wonder how sincere this apology is. "My husband and I invited you over as our guest, tonight, and I didn't act appropriately."

Narcissa isn't truly mad at her. Not everyone is so skilled at concieling their feelings as she is and that's probably good. "Just don't ever assume you know my life," she says. "You really don't."

"Fair enough. Will you join us for desert, then?"

"I'm afraid not. I'll take a walk around Diagon. I need to clear my head. Will you lift the wards for me?"

"Hermione is worried about you," the redhead says.

" _Please_."

Molly hesitates, but then she takes out her wand and Narcissa feels the wards lifting. "You're very lucky, you know." When she sees Molly's confusion she adds, "You have a beautiful family." Feeling tears threatening to spill again she Disapparates.

…

Diagon is as deserted as she has never seen it. To her great disappointment even the Cauldron is closed. Seems like everyone is with their families, it's the holidays after all. She knows where to go, though. She makes a turn into Knockturn Alley without hesitation. She pays the weird individuals no mind as she passes, having been here often enough to not feel frightened by them. She heads straight for the Broken Wand. Without paying the other guests any attention she goes toward the bar.

"What a sight for sore eyes."

"Charming as ever, Ludovic." She sits down in front of the bartender and –owner.

"Well, it's true, Lady Malfoy. It is always an honour and a pleasure to have you here and it's been way too long."

It's been a long time indeed. She's not set foot into Knockturn even since before she cut ties with Lucius. Now, that she's back she realizes how she's missed it. Something about the obscure, mysterious atmosphere speaks to her. She scans the beverage menue when Ludo sets a drink in front of her. "From the blonde over there," he comments. She turns her head to where he points. At a table in the corner sits a woman, Narcissa assumes her to be her age, with golden locks, clad in expansive looking emerald robes. She turns back to Ludo.

"No, thank you." She declines the drink. She has learned a long time ago to not accept drinks from strangers.

"I should have known a lady like yourself wouldn't be charmed easily." The blonde sits down next to her.

"It's very flattering, but …."

"Let me guess. You don't accept drinks from a stranger? Seems like we're two of a kind."

 _I am taken_ was what she was going to say, but never mind.

"Would you allow me to buy you a drink, then?" the woman asks.

Narcissa eyes the witch up and down. "Fine." What of it? "Firewhisky. Make it a double."

"You heard the woman, Ludo."

Ludovic hands her the double shot. "Thank you …?" she asks directed toward the woman.

"Theresa. And you are?"

Narcissa looks down on the other woman. "I thought you wanted to charm me, not offend me. Are you a foreigner?" The witch shakes her head. "Then don't act like you don't know who I am."

"Feisty, _Lady Malfoy_."

"That's better." She downs the double shot and gets up. A bit of flirting is nice, but she's not really in the mood for a conversation and she certainly doesn't intend to string the poor woman along. That never ends well.

"And yet you're leaving?"

"Like I was going to say, you're very flattering, but I'm not the one tonight." Narcissa heads outside to cool down. That damned Firewhisky is already giving her hot flashes. She braces herself against the nearest wall. Shuddering, she feels breathing hot on her neck.

"I'm not discouraged that easily," Theresa says and she feels a hand ghosting over her neck.

"I am taken," Narcissa says.

"That you are."

Before Narcissa realizes what's happening, the woman has pressed a handkerchief to her mouth and locked her in with the other arm. A disgusting smell creeps up her nose. Her lungs strain at the lack of oxygen and she tries hard to breathe without breathing in whatever this is. It's impossible. Her vision blurs. Panic stricken she reaches for her wand. Her legs go limp. The clattering of her wand hitting the ground. Her eyes fall shut.

* * *

A/N: The story's picking up! Thank you to everyone who's followed and reviewed so far. Keep the comments coming! They always make my day :)


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing she notices is the hard stone floor that digs into her temple and the pain in her shoulder; it's twisted at a weird angle. And the coldness. It's a clear, biting cold that makes her curl in on herself. There's the sound of fast little dabbing next to her head; probably a rat or several of them. She brings herself into a small embryo form as if that could prevent the rats from coming near her. Bellatrix had told her how they used to eat away at her when she was in Azkaban and Narcissa had seen the hundreds of tiny scars. She hears voices from afar, they grow louder until she can make out a male voice saying, „I ordered you to bring her here unharmed!"

"She _is_ unharmed. It's a very common method. Muggles use it all the time to numb people."

"Muggles? You used a Muggle method to- Salazar's snake, if you don't do everything on your own … Merlin knows what that stuff does to her. And why is she in the cellar?" The sound of the voice becomes even louder now and awfully familiar.

"She's our prisoner."

"She is my _wife_ and you will treat her accordingly. Is that understood?"

An awful feeling settles in Narcissa like a heavy stone in her chest that keeps her from breathing.

"Yes, master."

The sound of footsteps grows closer and closer. The sound of metal on metal. The two people must be entering the cellar, now. Narcissa keeps her eyes closed. Someone pats her face lightly and she recognizes Lucius' touch. "Narcissa? Can you hear me?" She couldn't react if she wanted to. Her head is hurting, her body heavy like stone. He scoops her up in his arms. "Go to the elves. They ought to bring her some food and tea." He carries her up a flight of stairs. She hears a lot of voices, male and female, some faintly in the distance, some right by. Another flight of stairs and another one. A couple of steps further and he lowers her down on soft silk. The door closes.

 _Pop_. The sound of elves apparating. Tapping on the floor and clicking right next to her ears. Another _Pop_. She opens her eyes and sees a tray with sandwiches and tea on the bedside table. She pays it no mind, but takes a look around. The room is grand and lavishly furnished. There's a vanity in the far corner to the left, a couch, armchair and tea table in the far corner of the other side. The walls are covered in dark wood work. The atmosphere is reminiscent of Malfoy Manor; heavy and caged. She gets up and sways, the effect of the drug still noticeable. The first thing she tries is a door next to the vanity. It reveals a bathroom with a large pool-like tub in the center. A variety of soaps, oils and scents are lined up on the rim. The furniture, the décor … this room is way too nice given the fact that she's just been abducted and it does absolutely nothing to calm her, it worriers her. Who was the woman chatting her up and the people she heard talking in the hallways? Where is she and _why_ is she here? She tries to open one of the windows. It's locked. Slowly she walks towards the door and tries the handle. To her surprise it opens. She would have suspected her kidnappers to lock her in. That they haven't can only mean one thing: this manor is so well warded that she won't be able to escape, whether she can leave the room or not doesn't matter. She's wary to leave the room as she has no idea who she will encounter and whether they mean her harm. She scoffs. Merlin, how stupid of her. Of course, they mean her harm in some way; they've kidnapped her. But will they want to harm her physically? In a sudden moment of shocking realization she pats herself down. Her wand is missing. She is completely defenseless. She suppresses the feeling of incompleteness that the lack of her wand causes and steps out into the hallway. She has to know what is going on. The hallway seems to be deserted. It has to be late at night by now. After walking for a while she encounters three men standing together, talking to each other. When they notice her they stop talking and bow deeply to her. Irritated, she stops. They're all young, in their mid-twenties probably and dressed in the same gear: long emerald cloaks with silver embroidery. She doesn't recognize them. They keep their bowed posture as she studies them. She keeps on walking. A couple of minutes later she comes across a man she does recognize: Yaxly. He, too, stops and bows.

"Lady Malfoy," he addresses her, "what an honour." He takes her hand and kisses it. "It is good to see you and it's good to see you are well."

"I wish the feeling was mutual. What is this, Yaxly?"

"It is not my place to explain. If you will be so kind to go back to your room, I will inform your husband that you're awake. I'm sure he'll explain everything."

Anger boils inside her, but she turns around, heads back to the bedroom and slams the door shut. What on earth is going on here? Why is everyone bowing to her like she is royalty? And Yaxly was suspiciously polite. Mere seconds later Lucius enters the room. "Narcissa, I'm very glad to see you are up. Are you feeling well? I could call for our healer, if you'd like."

The sheer audacity he has to ask whether she is well! "Spare me that, Lucius and tell me what's going on. What is this place and more importantly, why did you _kidnap_ and bring me here?"

"All in due time. It is late and you should be resting and _eating_ ", he says, looking pointedly at the food she left untouched.

"Don't act like you care about my well-being and don't digress. I want an explanation."

"I do care about your well-being, love." He cups her cheek and she slaps his hand away.

"Don't touch me!"

His nostrils flare. "I had hoped you might have seen reason by now. We are _married_."

"Which is very unfortunate. We are only married _on paper_ at this point." And even that is only because Lucius ran off, so the divorce couldn't be executed.

"Drop the act, Narcissa. You had your time to run around and experiment, but that phase has to end. _N_ _ow_."

"Don't talk to me like I'm some confused school girl. I know who I am and no, my feelings are not a phase. I love my girlfriend and –" _Smack_. He's slapped her. "- and I will certainly never love you."

"I find it hard to believe what the papers say. We've been married for decades. That cannot be meaningless to you." He waves his hand indifferently. "Even it is, it doesn't matter anyway."

"Do you hear yourself talking? You want to be with me again, but it doesn't matter how I feel about that?"

"In the end no. Though, of course, I wished it was different." He sighs and pulls her toward him suddenly, holding her to himself tightly. "Merlin, I've missed you."

He nuzzles her neck and she shudders, body growing rigid by the fear memories evoke. "Let me go," she says between gritted teeth. "Please."

He sighs and lets go of her, looking defeated all of a sudden. "I will let you rest now. I see you're still out from the narcotic." He walks out and closes the door without looking back at her.

 _You're still out from the_ _narcotic_. Merlin, is he really that ignorant or is he just lying to himself? She takes off her shoes and crawls under the covers on the bed. There is no use in trying to get out of here right now, she might as well try to sleep, because the drug is indeed still effecting her. It's difficult though; her thoughts are so loud in the silence. Will Hermione already be suspicious by her absence? Will the Aurors look for her or will they think she simply dodged a bullet? Made a run for it? Oh, she's being stupid. Hermione, Andy and Draco have to know she'd never do that. And once Hermione realizes she's gone missing, she will make sure the entire Auror department will search for her. She rolls from one side to the other in hope sleep will come easier in this position. What are the odds of them finding her, though? Molly does know she wanted to go to Diagon, they might even find her wand in front of Ludo's and then? There is no way to detect and track Apparation, is there? She's not sure. An unsettling feeling spreads in the pit of her stomach as tiredness overwhelms her.

…

"Cissy."

She stirs. It can't possibly be morning yet and if so, she doesn't want to get up.

"Cissy."

Is she still dreaming? But the voice sounds so real and close. She opens her eyes and jolts up, slamming herself back into the head board. She stares in horror and disbelief.

"Merlin's balls, finally. You were sleeping like a giant."

This is sheer impossible. It can't be. It _must not_ be.

"Why are you looking like a Niffler caught in the act? Not happy to see your favourite sis?"

" _Bella_ … I eh …" Her heart is beating rapidly in her chest, about to burst out. She has no idea what to say, because she is certainly not happy to see her, but she can't say that. And she cannot figure out what to tell Bellatrix because she cannot believe that she isn't dreaming. How on earth is Bellatrix alive, sitting right in front of her on this bed, cross-legged like a kid?

"Alright, I get it. I guess it's a bit disturbing to think me dead and then see me up and well, but you didn't really think I would simply vanish like that, did you? No no," Bellatrix whispers, leaning into her. "The Dark Lord taught me how to make a Horcrux and it worked, Cissy. It worked!"

"Who … who brought you back?"

"Lucius did. Turns out he has his uses after all."

Lucius? Why would he do that? He used to loathe Bellatrix because she was the Dark Lord's favourite, always outdoing him.

"People loved it. You should have been there, Cissy, when they first saw me, again. They treat me like a queen." Bellatrix throws her arms around her, then lies down next to her, resting her head on her chest.

Narcissa barely dares to breath. She's utterly aware that just one wrong word could make Bellatrix switch. Carefully she says, "That's wonderful. I'm so glad to have you back." It's a lie, of course, but her sister's always been incredibly unstable and she does not want Bellatrix to go crazy on her right now.

"Mh, and now that you have me back," Bellatrix says, hugging her tightly, "things will get better. I'll help you get back on track."

"Back on track? What do you mean?" Narcissa keeps her hands firmly to herself, not responding to Bellatrix' affections.

"Lucius told me what happened between the two of you. Obviously I didn't trust him to tell me the truth, so I read every article about you I could get my hands on. I know Skeeter wrote them but I even believe her more than Lucius."

"So you know that I –"

"Yes, I know you're gay and dating that Mudblood. It's honestly so disgusting, outright _repulsing_ , but I understand you were confused," Bellatrix says and presses a kiss to her collarbone. "It will all get better once this is over. I promise, Cissy." Bellatrix places more kisses to her throat and straddles her.

Bellatrix moves Narcissa's shirt up to the underside of her breasts and her heart stops momentarily, her mouth runs dry. "Bella?" Her voice is full of uncertainty. Bellatrix' hands slide under her shirt to cup her breasts. She gasps and grabs Bellatrix' wrists to stop her. "You said it was disgusting?"

„Oh, I meant that I'm disgusted by the filth you associate with. I am, however, rather fascinated by the general turn your desire has taken." Bellatrix slides a finger down from her breasts until it comes to rest at the rim of her pants.

She can't possibly be suggesting … "What do you mean?" There is a spark of hope left in her that her sister means something else, that she has not gone _that_ insane.

"Don't play dumb with me, Cissy. You know what I mean," Bellatrix says casually. She unbuttons her pants.

"Bellatrix, we're sisters! This is very wrong."

"Our blood might be the same, but at least it's pure," she says, voice low and laced with desire.

Bellatrix pulls down her trousers and panties in one move. She should have stopped that, but it's as if she's paralyzed. Only with effort does she manage to ask, "What on earth are you doing?" The answer is obvious, but Narcissa simply cannot believe that this is happening.

"Shhh, darling. Don't be scared." Bellatrix' lips graze her belly. "I'm gonna make it enjoyable for you." Bellatrix parts her thighs, presses them hard to the bed.

"No, please don't!" She whimpers at the first lick Bellatrix gives her.

"Shhh …."

Another one and then some more.

"No!" Narcissa protests to her sister, to her body as she starts feeling something she shouldn't be feeling.

Another lick.

She covers her eyes with her hands and bites her lip hard.

"Now, now, there's no need for that. I can feel it, you know." Bellatrix scoops up the wetness dripping down and chuckles.

Another lick. And another one. And another. And Narcissa stops breathing as an orgasm is forced from her body. Tears brim her eyes. They fall as Bellatrix kisses up her belly, her chest, her throat. She licks up the tears on her cheek. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" She kisses her and Narcissa bites down on Bellatrix' bottom lip. _Smack_. Bellatrix slapped her. "Who do you think you are, Narcissa? And who the fuck do you take me for? No one, not even you, defies me. I think it's time for a repetition of our lessons."

"No ... No more. Please ... just ... leave me be." It's hard to speak while she is crying so uncontrollabley. "What ever happened to the sister who used to protect me when we were little?"

Bellatrix eyes grow as cold as she has ever seen them. "You mean the one who went through literal hell for her baby sister only to be pushed aside when no longer needed? Well, she's fucking angry." Bellatrix discards her wand and pulls out another device from her holster – the dagger. Narcissa recognizes it immediately. Bellatrix puts the dagger to her skin, slices and Narcissa screams hell. This is not just the burning cut of any average blade, there is magic involved here, tormenting dark magic and it burns her up. She just knows deep in her gut that she is feeling what Hermione was feeling that night at Malfoy Manor. When it's over she turns her head. It's not easy to see through the tears in her eyes, but there it is carved into the flesh of her left arm – _mudblood lover_. After that her body goes limp. After that her mind parts from her body as Bellatrix grabs her hair and mounts her face. Her mind goes blank except for one thought: Hermione will never want to touch her again once she learns what just happened.

…

They days go by in a blur, an indistinguishable blur between light and dark. She barely leaves the room anymore. While she is allowed to wander the corridors, she doesn't really want to run into anyone, especially not her sister. To her great dismay she has not been allowed in on any of the meetings that take place at least once a week. Everyone except for her is present then. She only knows this because the house is completely quiet then. You could hear a needle drop. There are also smaller meetings, involving only a handful of people, but always Lucius. He calls the shots here. That became obvious quickly given the respect people show him. Every now and than Lucius will come in to look after her, trying to make her eat. She stopped eating a couple of days ago. If she's having a good day, she'll scream at him.

"Tell me why! Why am here?!"

"I told you, Narcissa, I want to be with you. We belong to each other."

"Cut the crap! You had this woman sedate me, kidnap me, you keep me a prisoner in this giant manor that you took off Merlin knows whom, just because you're still in love? I don't believe it for one second. Why am I here? What does your group need me for?"

"You're imagining things, honey."

…

"Cissy, I'm sorry."

She's standing in front of the large glass front in the library, back turned toward Bellatrix, looking out onto the grounds. Such large fucking grounds. Nothing but trees for miles.

"I truly am sorry. I thought you'd enjoy it."

How is anyone supposed to find her here in this ocean of green. Are they even in England? For all she knows they could have taken her to another country.

"Cissy, _please._ " Bellatrix places a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" Narcissa roars. "Leave me the fuck alone."

Bellatrix staggers back a couple of steps, probably surprised by the rare display of anger and defiance.

The door opens and Lucius enters. "What on earth is go- Bellatrix. I told you not to antagonize her. I _warned_ you."

"Calm your tits, Lucy. She's not made of sugar."

"You will not bother her." Lucius draws his wand. "I warned you. I told you about _it_ and you'd do well to remember."

"He told you about what?" Narcissa asks Bellatrix, but her sister doesn't meet her eyes. "Lucius, what are you talking about?"

"All in due time, love."

"I cannott stand to hear that line anymore. You expect me trust you, to be with you, you want us to do this, whatever _this_ is, together and yet you won't tell me anything."

"Welp," Bellatrix says, "I'm gonna bugger off. Not keen on a marital fight."

"Actually," Narcissa says, "you can _both_ bugger off." She turns to the shelves loaded with books once they've left. She picks a random novel and heads back to her room to read it, distract herself. Of course, she has no intention of doing what she just insinuated to Lucius. She does absolutely not want to corporate with him, but she's been giving him the impression. She may be under Lucius' protection here, but the tables could very well turn when she becomes too defiant and she plans to survive this as unharmed as possible and Lucius has been significantly kinder ever since.

…

"My Lord, forgive me," a young man's voice sounds, "but wouldn't it be wiser to do it here? _Safer_? The chance of someone intruding is-"

"Certainly high if some useless dumb fuck like you did it," Bellatrix says. "Luckily more skilled people will be given the task."

Narcissa would love to see who these skilled people might be, who is present at this meeting that has been going on in Lucius' study for about an hour, but she doesn't dare to open the door any further in fear they might notice her.

In a final voice Lucius says, "We'll stick with the location. It is vital to the process."

…

The view is the same it has been for the past days, weeks, possibly months; she has lost all sense of time. She's been sitting here all day, staring out of the window. There's only so much reading she can do to distract herself from the fact that she's stuck in this horrible situation. There's a knock on the door, followed by someone entering. She doesn't turn to see who it is.

"I've brought you food," Madeleine says.

She ran into Madeleine some while ago while she was wandering about in one of the more deserted areas of the manor. Narcissa was only mildly shocked. Not much can surprise her these days. She can hear Madeleine putting down a tray on the table. "No, thank you."

Madeleine crouches down next to her. "Look at me." Madeleine touches her hand and she snaps out of her trance. "You need to eat. You're going to- It's dangerous what you're doing."

It _does_ smell amazing and she _is_ starving. She has not been able to keep her hunger strike up, a ravishing hunger overwhelming her more and more often, but every now and then, like today she will reject all food. It won't hurt her; she's gained a bit of weight. "What is it to you?," she asks.

"I still care about you. _A_ _lot_."

"And yet here you are, supporting my imprisonment."

"This is very complex, Narcissa. I hate that we have to keep you here, I hate that you'll have to-" Madeleine stops herself and Narcissa doesn't ask what she was going to say. She's given up on finding out anything. "It is necessary, tough, to create a new world, a better world for us. Once we have achieved that I will do anything to protect you from him, I promise."

"You still want to be with me, don't you?"

"Always. I never doubted you were the one for me."

What Narcissa would have given to hear that only a year ago and the words still sound tempting today given everything that has happened. All this time without a shred hope to escape, without the slightest sign of help coming her way. In some weird twisted way this sounds like a plan. Only that she's still in a relationship, technically. It's hard to tell when you have no idea what the other person is doing, feeling and thinking. Still she says, "I have a partner."

"I know," Madeleine says and takes her hand, "but what we had, it's not gonna be repeated." She places a hand on her cheek. "There's nothing like it."

Narcissa can't help but lean into Madeleine's touch and tears start to dwell. After all this time she craves some kind of touch that's gentle and well-intended. Medeleine kisses her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her lips and Narcissa allows it. It feels so good, only … it doesn't feel like Hermione. She pushes Madeleine away. "I can't. Please leave."

"Promise me you'll eat something?"

"I promise." She does eat, only quite a while later after the food's gone cold, after she's cried her eyes out. Madeleine's touch has brought her feelings back and left her with an unbearable yearning for Hermione.


	5. Chapter 5

"Up! Madam needs to wake up!"

She stirs, feeling a tiny, boney hand on her shoulder.

"Up! Madam needs to get up!"

She opens her eyes and looks into the enormous eyes of an elf. "It's the middle of the night. What do you mean I have to get up?"

"Feeby is sorry, Mam, but there's no time for questions. Master has asked Feeby to wake Madam."

There's commotion in the hallways. Whatever this means it can't be good, or can it? Could the headquarters possibly have been detacted? Are Aurors on their way? The door flies open.

"Cissy!" Bellatrix shrieks. "Get a move on. Come on, get up." Bellatrix grabs her by the arm and pulls her to her feet.

"Don't touch me!" Narcissa tries to free her from her sister's grasp.

"Oh, cut the crap." Bellatrix drags her down the stairs into the entrance hall, where about thirty or fourty people are waiting, including Lucius. Her sister puts her arms around her tightly from behind; Narcissa shudders, feeling Bellatrix' breath on her neck and her hands on her stomach. Bellatrix chuckles low in her throat. "Ready?" she asks.

Lucius nods.

Narcissa yelps as she feels the tugging, not expecting it. The usually very quick act of Apparition seems to take a lot longer than usual and she wonders whether they're crossing borders. Eventually her feet hit the ground. What she sees has her so captivated that she barely registers Bellatrix stepping away from her and joining the other witches and wizards, who've formed a circle. Shills spread down her spine as she looks around the church. She hasn't seen many churches in her life, obviously, and she certainly has never seen anything like this. The walls, the arches, even the grand altar are decorated with bones and skulls, thousands of them. "What is this place?" she asks, her voice is but a whisper, but it sounds magnified in here.

"That depends on who you ask," Lucius says. "Muggles call it Kostnice, the bone church. We, though, call it Mortem Magnificus."

"Glorious death? That's absurd." There's nothing glorious about death; she's seen enough of it to know.

"Golrious death, yes. Hundreds and hundreds of years ago witches and wizards believed that magic flowed through our blood, was engraved into the very cells of our bones."

It dawns on her what she's seeing. "These are the bones of witches and wizards," she says. Lucius nods. "Did they … sacrifice themselves?"

"A lot of them did, but a lot were also murdered by Muggles." He looks disgusted. "You see why we are fighting, now? So that _this_ won't repeat itself."

"That was hundreds and hundreds of years ago, Lucius."

"And what do you think would happen if Muggles learned of our existence today? History would repeat itself. And then they allow Mudbloods into our world." He shakes his head. "Either way, they adorned this place with bones because they believed it would release magical energy that would ensure, and even enforce, the effect of rituals, which is why we are here tonight."

"What do you mean?"

"We're going to perform a ritual here, you and I. We're going to shed our blood on the altar in honor of our ancestors and we will conceive another heir."

" _What?_ " She looks at Lucius as if he's an exotic creature, she's never seen before, as if the words coming out of his mouth are uttered in another language.

"Yes, we're going to conceive another child."

"Absolutely not. No way." Her heartbeat quickens as Lucius approaches her; she staggers backwards.

"We have to."

What on earth is he talking about? "You're completely mental." She looks around frantically for some way out, but the witches and wizards who accompanied them have gathered around them in a tight circle, wands at the ready. Her eyes land on Madeleine. Silently she begs for help, but Madeleine only looks at her apologetically. She remembers Madeleine's words … _I hate that you'll have to_ … This is what she meant. She keeps on stumbeling around the circle – Lucius is following her every move closely - looking for something, though she realizes more and more with every second that there is no way out.

"I feared you might not cooperate," Lucius says. "Immobilus."

She grows ridged for a second, then collapses forward right into Lucius' arms. She's completely lost control of her body, but she feels everything. Lucius' breath on her face, the feeling of his hands on her makes her want to scream out and lash out. That she is unable to do any of that only makes it worse. She has never been at someone's mercy like that and it's the most horrifying feeling; she cannot stand it. She focuses her gaze on one of the skulls hanging from the ceiling. It stares at her with huge hollow eyes as Lucius lies down on the altar.

…

The days rush past in a daze after that. She feels nauseous often which confirms her terrible suspicion that she is indeed pregnant. Most of the time she will dream herself away; dream of happier times with Andy and Draco. She tries not to think of Hermione, but she cannot help it. Whenever she does think of her, Narcissa is overwhelmed with longing, yearning for her. The longer she's been separated from her, the more she feels like a vital part of her is missing. Her feelings are complex, though. In those moments where she cannot blend out reality, like today, she feels scared and hopeless. Scared because she's afraid Hermione will reject her after everything that happened to her. Hopeless because there is still no sign of help. She has been able to get her hands on a copy of the Daily Prophet last night. She snuk out of her room to get something to drink when everyone was asleep and there it was laying on the kitchen counter. Skimming through the articles was surreal. She's been cut off from the world for weeks, possibly months without any idea of what is happening outside of these walls. There were articles about Dementors running loose, increasing attacks on Muggleborns and Halfbloods, critique on Shaklebolt and there was a mention of her. It was just a few lines, but it confirmed her fear that the Aurors still have no clue about her whereabouts. It hit her more than ever that she is alone in this and that no one's gonna free her, but herself. She's still in bed as someone opens the door, still in the clothes she wore the night they took her. The wardrobes here are filled with gowns, but she refuses to put them on. She doesn't want anything that belongs to them. As dirty and torn as her clothes my be, they give her a feeling of safety and _home_.

"I brought you breakfast, darling," Lucius says. She doesn't turn to look at him, but she can hear him putting the tray down. The bed dips and he lies down flush behind her, kissing her neck. "Please eat, today. It's important." He caresses her belly. Then, he slips his hand between her legs. Anger is boiling inside her like hot water, dangerously bubbling just under the surface. The arrogance he possesses to act like she enjoyed what happened in that church, like she enjoys _this._ He rubs her through her pants and she moans. Turning around to face him, she looks at him with what she hopes are fuck-me-eyes. His pupils dilate and he increases the pressure on her core. He kisses her. Pulling him on top of her, she slips her tongue in to which he responds eagerly. Her hands travel from his chest to his shoulders, to his back and further down until she reaches his wand holster. Distracting him with her tongue in his mouth and her hips grinding against him, she pulls his wand from its holster very carefully. Silently she does the incantation. _I_ _ncarcerous_. He collapses on top of her like a a heavy stone. "You fucking bitch." She pushes him off her. He falls onto the floor with a loud noise. "Help!" he shouts. For a moment Narcissa considers sneeking out, but when she presses her ear to the door, hears footsteps down the hall. She has to do _something_. "Bombarda!" The window panes explode. She squeezes through and steps out. Her hands are trembling, desperately trying to find some kind of purchase on the wall. The window-sill is small; one wrong step and she'll fall. The footsteps sound closer and she considers her options. Disapparition. She has no idea whether it's even possible. There might very well be Diaspparition wards on the property and if there are, the consequences would be severe, life-threatening possibly. Jumping. She might be able to stop her fall and land unharmed. And then? She'd have to run for it. Given her state there's no way she'd make it across the vast grounds before they catch her and then … well, she doesn't want to think about that. Male voices are now sounding, topped with Bellatrix' shrill shrieking. She has to act now. She tightens her grip on Lucius' wand and hopes the Disapparation wards are set up only _inside_ the mansion. _Crack_.

…

She lands unsteadily on hard concrete and braces herself against the next wall. "Ugh …" One hand clasped over her mouth, she tries to keep down the bile rising; her stomach has turned into the Gordian knot. Once she feels more steady she takes a look around. There houses on each side of her, going several storeys high. Cars rush by on the main street this alley leads to. Wherever she is, it's not where she meant to go. "Fuck …." She has no sense of direction in Muggle London. She knows the way from Andy's to the Tube and back and that's about it. She walks down the side-walk of the main street, passing shops, restaurants, people. She isn't aware what she's looking for until she finds it: a small café that looks oddly familiar. She's been here once with Andy, she thinks. She enters without much thought and stops in the middle of the café. She looks around helplessly for _something_. What is she going to do now?

"Madam?" The face of a young man appears in her sight. "Can I get you anything?" he asks.

"Ehm … tea. Herbal."

"Oh, I'm sorry. We only serve coffee, all sorts, of course. If you wanna take a look at our offers-"

"A latte then."

He turns to leave, but hesitates, looking her up and down. Narcissa follows his gaze. Her clothes are dirty, ripped in several places. Quickly she holds the fabric over her cleavage together.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" the man asks. "Do you need help?" he whispers.

"Could I use your tellyfon?"

"Our _telephone_ you mean? Yes, of course. Just follow the loo sign. You won't miss it."

She follows the white signs plastered on the walls and until she finds the tellyfon. Pressing the receiver to her ear, she dials the number. There's that tooting sound. _Pick up_. More tooting and even more. _Pick up_.

"Tonks, here."

Thank Merlin. Her sister's voice sounds so surreal. "Andy?"

There's a beat. "Narcissa? _Merlin_ , is it really you?"

"Yes. Get me, Andy."

"Where are you?"

"That little café you took me when I first mo-"

"I know. I'm coming. _Stay there_ , Cissy, you hear me? Stay there under all circumstances."

"O.K.," she says, but Andy's already hung up.

She goes back to the front of the café and takes a seat at one of the small tables from where she can see the door. The waiter brings her the latte she ordered. "Is everything alright?" he asks.

"Yes, thank you." Her voice quavers, touched by the concern a complete stranger shows. The smell of coffee creeps up her nose. Her hands shake as she picks up the cup and she takes a zip quickly. It's so hot it almost burns her throat, but it feels so good. She stares at the strangers passing by, going to or from work, to see friends or to go shopping maybe and she covers her face with her hands, tears falling uncontrollabley. She's just escaped a night mare and everyone's going about their fucking everyday life.

"Narcissa?"

She looks up and before she can say anything Andy sits down next to her and hugs her tightly. She grabs at Andy's clothes and holds on tight as if she's afraid her sister will vanish into thin air any moment. They let go and stare at each other in awe.

"What happened?" Andy asks.

"What can I get you?" The waiter has come over to take Andy's order.

"Nothing," Andy dismisses him with a wave of her hand.

The waiter looks annoyed, but leaves them alone. As soon as he's out of ear shot Andy asks again, "What happened, Cissy? Where were you? Are you ok? Do you need a healer?"

It suddenly hits Narcissa that she is not ready to answer these questions and there will be a lot more people asking a lot more questions soon. She tells her sister, "Take me home."

"You're right, this is not the place. Let's go then."

"I don't have any money," Narcissa says.

"What?"

"For the coffee."

"Right, I'll get it." Andy goes over to the counter and pays the bill. They leave the café quickly after that. "We'll look for an empty alley way and Apparate from there," her sister says.

"I can't. I'm sick to my stomach."

"The tube, then, but we should hurry."

Narcissa assumes they're thinking among the same lines: they might already be looking for her. At some point during their way to the Tube Andy puts her arm around her and holds on to her with a death grip; she doesn't mind. She can't believe it once they reach Andy's house. For weeks she has been thinking about home, a concept that seemed so out of reach and now here it is, right in front of her. She stands in the middle of the living room, unable to believe that she is truly here now.

"Come, sit down, Cissy," Andy tells her. "I'll make you a tea with a bit of potion to help with the neausa."

As she watches Andy roam around the kitchen she realizes how much she missed Andy's doting. Maybe she shouldn't enjoy it so much, she's an adult after all, but she relishes in it. Andy hands her the tea. "You probably don't want to hear that now, but we'll have to make some calls or send some owls rather."

"I know," she says with resignation.

"He … he took you, didn't he? Lucius?"

"Yes, but it wasn't him alone."

Andy sighs. "They have reformed." It is not a question.

For a split second she thinks about telling Andy that _they_ includes their sister, but memories flash up just for a split second and they bring the feeling of shame and guilt with them.

"Should we just go straight to the Ministry?" Andy asks.

"No, I don't think that's wise. There are Ministry people involved in this. I don't know whom we can trust." After a pause she adds, "Madeleine's one of them."

"You're kidding."

"Unfortunately not _and_ she said she wanted to get back together. Can you believe it?"

Andy snorts. "Be glad you dodged that bullet. You have a wonderful woman, now who's certainly dying to see you. Should I call her?"

"I think I'd rather be alone, today. It's been exhausting." That is true, but it's only part of the reason why she doesn't want to see Hermione. Something about the idea of seeing her again makes her feel incredibly nervous and uneasy and she can't quite figure out why.

"She's been sick with worry," Andy implores.

Narcissa remains silent for a while. Something about Andy's concern for Hermione makes her angry. Her sister should be concerned with _her_. Shouldn't _her_ needs be most important right now? Or is she being selfish? She's not sure. "Right. Call her, then," she says eventually. "And tell her to tell Harry. I'm not talking to anyone else." She knows she can trust him.

The call doesn't take long. When Andy hangs up the phone, she says, "She'll talk to Harry and then she'll be on her way."

That'll buy her at least a few minutes to gather herself. "I'll take shower before she comes o-"

The flames of the fireplace jump to life and two seconds later Hermione emerges. When Narcissa lays eyes on her, her heart melts a little. Hermione's lost weight, her hair is bushier than usual and there are dark circles under her eyes. Narcissa realizes she's not the only one who's suffered.

Hermione approaches her tentatively. "Cissa …" Before she can say anything. Hermione engulfs her in a tight, crushing hug. Slowly she reciprocates. The feeling of Hermione's skin, the scent of her hair is oddly familiar and strange at the same time. For such a long time this moment had been unattainable and it's difficult to grasp that it's actually here. Hermione holds her at an arm's length, looking her up and down.

Narcissa senses the onslaught of questions coming her way and she recoils. "I'll take a quick shower before Harry arrives," she says. Only reluctantly Hermione lets go of her and Narcissa doesn't fail to notice that weird look on her face that she can't figure out. She is only half way up the stairs when the fire place roars for a second time. She sighs and heads back down.

Harry Potter looks horrible, not as bad as Hermione but it's a close second.

"Narcissa …" He puts his hand on her shoulder. "I'm so glad to- Oh come here," he says and hugs her. For the first time in what feels like ages she laughs. "I'm so very sorry we couldn't help you," he says.

"There was nothing," Hermione says. Her voice is small. "I went looking for you that night. I knew something was wrong. I knew you wouldn't just-" Hermione stops herself.

"The Auror team took on your case very quickly," Harry says. "We formed a little extra unit, Hermione, Ron, Draco and I, to invest even more time in your case. All hell's lose in the Auror office; so much has been happening lately we can barely keep up."

Narcissa's chest constrict at the mention of her son. "Draco you say? He's working at the Ministry?"

"Yes. He's joined the Auror programme right after you went missing. He's doing fantastic. It's seldom I've seen someone so determined."

She's very pleased to hear that.

"And we really need people like him, now. Dementors are leaving Azkaban and we cannot get them back, as if they act under someone else's order, there are attacks on Muggles and Muggleborns and– I'm sorry, I'm flooding you with all this information when you've just … well, what happened? How are you feeling?"

She laughs nervously. She has no idea how to answer that last question, so she ignores it. "I think you all know what happened," she says.

"Lucius," Hermione says, her voice full of venom. Hermione reaches out to touch her hand, but Narcissa pulls her hand away last minute.

She ignores the confused look on Hermione's face. "As for who's behind everything you just mentioned, Harry, I think I can help you with that."

"So it's true?" he asks. "They've reunited?"

"Yes."

"Narcissa, would you be willing to give your testimony right now? I understand if it's not the right moment, of course, but-"

"It's fine. I'd rather get it over with."

"You don't mind if I use a self-writing quill, do you?"

Narcissa shakes her head.

Harry conjures a piece of a parchment and black quill that hovers over it, waiting. "Head Auror Harry Potter here, taking the testimony of Narcissa Malfoy", Harry begins and the quill starts to scribble away. "It is the third of March. Narcissa Malfoy went missing on December 24th after a Yule Party at the Weasly's. Witnesses saw her entering the Broken Wand, a bar run by Ludovic Bentham. Mrs. Malfoy, the last person people saw you talking to was a blond witch. Who was she? What were you talking about?"

"She introduced herself as Theresa. If that is her true name, I don't know. She bought me a drink and we chatted a bit. She was being flirty. I left the bar soon after we started talking to catch some air. She followed me. Next thing I know she presses this tissue over my mouth and nose; it stank horribly. I pulled my wand, but … I lost consciousness then."

"Where did this witch bring you?"

"I don't know the specific location. I woke up in a cellar, but they brought me up to an actual room, then. A very comfortable room actually with a grand bed, tea area, a bathroom."

"Who is _they_?" Harry asks.

"Lucius."

"As in Lucius Malfoy? Your husband?"

"Yes."

"Can you describe the house for me?" Harry asks.

"I never saw it from the outside. It was grand, though, more like a manor. There was a library, a dining hall, a room specifically designed for meetings, studies … It reminded me of Black or Malfoy manor."

"You never got a glimpse of the outside surroundings?"

"Well, pretty much only from looking out the windows of the room they kept me in. It was in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing but trees for miles. no streets, no other buildings …." The hopelessness she felt all those weeks returns. Tears brim her brim her eyes.

"We can stop for now," Harry says. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked to interrogate you first thing. We can do this another time."

"No, it's fine. Continue."

"Mrs. Malfoy, you said your husband was involved. Do you think he ordered your abduction?"

"Absolutely. He was definitely in charge of it and … everything else there as well. People listened to him, followed his orders."

"Why do you think he abducted you?"

"I don't know." She has no intention of telling anyone what Lucius wanted from her and what he did to her. She can't even make sense of it herself. Technically she knows why he abducted her, but she doesn't _understand_ it.

"Maybe he didn't tell you specifically, but he must have said _something_ , done something that could tell us …"

"I said I don't kn- Ugh" She clutches the edge of the table as pain shoots through her head.

Hermione jumps up from her chair and is right by her side. "Narcissa? What's wrong?"

"Just a headache," she says, panting heavily.

"We're ending this for today, Harry," Hermione says.

Narcissa doesn't want to, she wants to get this over with. "Just give me minute. It'll be fine."

"No, honey. You've escaped an abduction today. This is too much."

"Hermoine's right," Andy says. "I'm sure your testimony can wait till tomorrow."

"Of course," Harry says, packing up his things. "It's no problem. Just come into my office tomorrow morning and we will continue there."

Harry leaves and Andy and Hermione keep doting on her, offering potions, tea and food, which she refuses all. "I'm gonna take a bath now. I've been wearing these clothes for weeks."

"If you need anything, call us!" both Andy and Hermione call after her as she heads for the bathroom.

All she needs is a bit of silence and some space to calm down she thinks as she takes off her clothes while the bathtub fills with water. She throws the clothes onto a pile in one corner of the bathroom; she might burn them later. She eases herself into the water and starts to washe her hair. She could do it with magic, but there's something calming about using shampoo and massaging it into the scalp. She leans back and closes her eyes. The hot water feels wonderful on her skin. For the first time since that night in December she feels like she can relax. There's a knock on the door and someone enters. She can tell by the way their footsteps sound that it's Hermione.

"I brought you a fresh set of clothes," Hermione says. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, thank you."

"Do you, ehm, want to stay here, tonight? Of course, I would wait till you've finished bathing and we could-"

The answer shoots out before she can even think about it. "I'll stay here." There's no place she'd rather be, now, than Andy's. She feels safe here.

"Ok. If you want me to be there for the interrogation tomorrow, just stop by my office beforehand. I'll be there."

"Alright."

They're silent for a while and Narcissa wonders why Hermione isn't leaving. She wishes she would.

"Narcissa?"

"Yes?"

"Please look at me."

Narcissa opens her eyes and does.

Hermione is kneeling next to the bathtub. "I missed you," she says.

Narcissa looks away from her. She doesn't know what to say to that. She knows Hermione wants her reciprocate and she _did_ miss her terribly, but she can't say it out loud. Hermione sighs and gets up and leaves the room. After the door has closed, Narcissa thinks she hears her crying. It makes her feel terrible, but she cannot allow herself to feel how much she's been yearning to be with Hermione right now. After she's done bathing, she heads back down. She's deadly tired, but she needs to talk to Andy.

"Feeling better?" Andy asks.

"Yeah. Andy, I need you to do me a favour." Her stomach turns.

"Of course. What is it?"

"I need you to brew a potion for me. A potion to miscarry."

Andy's face turns deadly serious and Narcissa fears she'll refuse her wish. "I can go to healer, if you don't want to do it."

"No, I'll do it. I still know how to. It's just … Merlin, Cissy …" Andy hugs her. "I'm so sorry."

This time Narcissa allows herself to feel the pain. She feels safe with Andy and cries while her sister holds her.

"Are you sure you're pregnant?" Andy asks.

"There was no test, but …. Lucius said he added a fertility potion into my breakfast and I've been feeling increasingly nauseous."

"How far along are you?"

"About three weeks maybe? I've lost all sense of time in there."

"Ok. I'll need to determine how far along you are to know how strong I need to make the potion, but we'll do that tomorrow after the interrogation. It'll be painful, I'm not gonna lie."

"I'll get through it. I cannot carry his child, Andy."

"You don't have to justify yourself to me. I understand. Now, you should rest."

Her sister's right. Tomorrow will be stressful. It's easier said than done, though. She's on edge for the rest of the day, the night is even worse. Eventually she falls asleep out of mere exhaustion when the sun already rises again.


	6. Chapter 6

They arrive at the Ministry at 9 a.m. Heads turn as they walk into the Atrium; there will be headlines tomorrow. She would love to avoid that, but she cannot hide from the world forever. Harry awaits them at the grand fountain.

"Good morning", he greets them. "Are you feeling better, Narcissa?"

Not really. She feels even more detached from her surroundings, today. The reality of her escape hasn't sunken in, yet. She does feels more collected than yesterday, but it only feels like the calm before the storm, as though she might crack any minute. Nevertheless she says, "Yes, thank you." They leave the Atrium. She looks around at the people rushing by, side-eyeing them; it makes her feel uneasy. "Everyone will know tomorrow, won't they?"

"Yes, unfortunately. We're considering giving you security wizards, if you want that."

"I'll think about it."

"Please, enter," Harry tells her, holding open a door to his right.

Narcissa frowns. "We're not doing this in your office?"

"Please, step inside and have a seat," Harry repeats and points toward a single chair behind a very simple wooden table.

She does so nervously. Something's up. They all sit down.

"Narcissa, this morning I told Kingsley about your escape," Harry starts. "I had to tell him as he is the Minister and as you know he was also personally involved in your case and …. well, word traveled. Several Aurors asked to participate in the interrogation today and given how high profile your case is and the possible information you could give us about the reunion of the Death Eaters, I couldn't deny them."

"That's fine with me," she says.

"Narcissa … some of these Aurors are … suspicious of you."

"Wat do you mean?"

"There is the theory that you haven't been abducted, but that you left freely to rejoin the Death Eaters."

" _What?_ " her and Andy ask simultaneously.

"That is ludicrous," Narcissa says. "After everything I did this year, leaving Lucius, filing for divorce, going public with my relationship with Hermione, you cannot possibly believe that."

Harry holds up his hand defensively. " _I_ don't. I'm on your side and so is Kingsly and Ron and numerous other Aurors, but there are those who _are_ suspicious. Not everyone knows you the way we do, not everyone knows everything you went through."

"So you're telling me I'll not only have to re-encounter the nightmare I just went through, but I'll have to convince them that it's even true?" she asks, her voice rising.

"I'm sorry."

Fucking great. The door opens and Aurors come in, filling the room to the brim. She's shocked by the amount of people and formulates a plan. She had considered being completely honest with Harry, but there is no way she will tell all of these people everything.

When everyone has sat down Harry says, "Good morning everyone. The interrogation of Narcissa Malfoy will be led by me, you are free to intervene if you have any additional questions. Everyone has read the copy of the interrogation I did yesterday?"

There are murmurs of "yes" all around the room.

"So," Harry starts.

"Why is she here?" a woman interrupts, pointing toward Andy.

"I'm here to stand by my sister," Andy says.

"It is against the rules for someone who is not an Auror to be present," the same woman says.

"I don't know what rules you read, Chelsea," Harry says, "but the official rules of the Ministry on interrogations clearly say that a victim is allowed moral support in the form of a relative."

"That would mean that we are operating under the premise that she is a victim," a tall slim Auror says.

"That _is_ the premise I'm operating under. Does anyone have a problem with that?" Harry asks, his voice strong and loud. No one says anything. "Mrs. Tonks, you can sit here and listen, but you may not speak or intervene at any time. So, let's start. Mrs. Malfoy, yesterday you told me that Lucius Malfoy was one of the people present at the estate where you've been held captive. Did you recognize any of the other people present?"

"Yes. There was Yaxly, Rosier and McNair junior as well as Madeleine Moreau."

The room gasps. "The Ministry worker Madeleine Moreau?" Harry asks.

"Yes." Some of the Aurors look at each other almost anxiously. She knows exactly what they're thinking. They've infiltrated the Ministry – again.

"Moreau works in the very secret departments of the Ministry. How do you know her and her position here?" another Auror asks.

"I know her from my time at Hogwarts."

"Were you friends?"

"We were a couple."

The Auror raises an eyebrow. That probably doesn't get her good points with those who are already suspicious of her.

"Are you still romantically involved with her?" the Auror called Chelsea asks.

"I'm in a relationship."

"That's not what I asked. I asked whether you are still seeing Moreau."

Fucking bitch. "Of course not. I'm faithful."

"Wasn't faithful to her husband, though, was she?" someone murmurs and a few Aurors chuckle.

"That's completely different! I was-"

"You don't have to comment on that," Harry tells her. "But you," he addresses the Aurors, "need to keep such comments to yourself. Now, anyone else you recognized?" Harry asks.

"There was Bellatrix."

"Bellatrix who?" he asks.

"Bellatrix as in Bellatrix Lestrange."

Andromeda gasps and Harry drops his quill. "Excuse me? What are you talking about? She's dead," Harry says.

"She was, but she's as alive as ever, now."

Harry sighs. "Mrs. Malfoy, we found her corpse. You must know that. It was given to your family because you wanted to bury her. You've gone through a lot rece-"

"I'm not going mad!" The audacity he has to suggest that she's imagining things. Maybe it's part of his job to take all possibilities into account, but infuriates her. "I give you permission to open her tomb at Black manor. I guarantee you'll find it empty."

Harry runs his hand through his hair, looking nervous. "Ron, please schedule a date for that later. Do you know how it is that she is alive?"

"She told me the Dark Lord taught her how to create a Horcrux and Lucius performed the ritual that brought her back."

"I might be wrong, but my impression was that your husband and your eldest sister didn't exactly see eye to eye. Why would he bring her back?"

"You're right. Lucius hates her and the feeling has always been mutual. I assume he brought her back because he needs her to gather followers. Lucius' lost a lot of respect during the last years of Voldemort's reign, most saw him as a joke. Bellatrix, though she might not have been liked, she's always been highly respected and trusted in that sense."

"Harry, may I?" a young witch asks.

"Sure."

"Mrs. Malfoy, from the way you talk it sounds like the Death Eaters have reorganized themselves. Would you put it like that?"

"Yes, though they operate under a different name, now. They call themselves the Knights of Walpurgis or simply the Knights."

"The knights? I've seen a pamphlet some weeks ago that had that name on it," a very young looking Auror says.

"And why didn't you tell me about this pamphlet?" Harry asks.

The Auror shrugs. "Didn't seem important. Just a bunch of lunatics trolling around, I thought."

"Right." Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. He seems to get more aggravated by the minute. He asks, "Mrs. Malfoy, do you know any specifics? Why have the reunited now? What are their goals, any future attacks?"

She draws up her walls. "Unfortunately I was not allowed in on any meetings. So aside from the obvious general goal – Pureblood supremacy – I cannot tell you anything."

"Speaking of _why,_ " the Auror Chelsea says, "why did they kidnap you?"

"I don't know."

"Your husband didn't tell you anything? Not even a hint?"

"I guess Lucius wanted me back. The break-up was not mutual. After he had me abducted he told me we belonged together, that I would see sense soon. When he attacked me several months ago he threatened me. He said I would regret leaving him. Maybe this is what he meant then."

"You mean we are to believe we are simply dealing with a heartbroken husband?"

She twists her hands under the table. These kind of questions irritate her. "You'd have to ask him what his motives are." She doesn't understand this. What else could have been the reason? The Death Eaters have reunited, yes, but what's she got to do with it?

"Mrs. Malfoy," another Auror addresses her, " the testimony you gave yesterday states you were living in a normal room at that manor. You described how it was furnished, quite lavishly, might I say. That seems awfully comfortable considering you were a captive. Where there any inconveniences for you?"

For a moment she is truthfully speechless. There are really people who believe she went there willingly. "I was sedated. I was abducted to an unknown location and held there against my will. I call that enough inconveniences as you put it."

"Right, but other than that, there was nothing? They didn't starve you, for example, hurt you in anyway?"

She feels him probing at her mind and lets him. Casting her eyes downwards, pretending to be lost in painful memories, she pulls up the images of Lucius slapping her. "Well, Lucius did become violent several times when I talked back at him." The room remains quiet. Expectant eyes are on her, waiting for more revelations. She realizes this admission won't do. Slowly she mingles in the memory of Bellatrix carving into her arm; reckoning _that_ will do, but the Auror holds on to that memory.

"What exactly did he do?" Potter asks.

The Auror probes harder, now. "He, ehm … he … slapped me," she says with difficulty. He's not exceedingly skilled, but performing Occlumency on such a level while focusing on a conversation at the same time is extremely difficult, even for her. She tries to hold on to the memory and modify it.

"Did anything else happen?" Harry asks.

"There … was … Bellatrix." Her control on the memory is slipping slowly, inch by inch.

"What did she do?"

There's Bellatrix tossing the dagger aside, straddling her …. "Stop it!" she shouts and throws the Auror out of her mind with full force.

"Excuse me?" Harry looks back and forth between her and the Auror. "What's going on?"

"He's reading my mind is what's going on," she says, panting.

"That is illegal, Miller!", Potter says.

"And you are suddenly blocking me", the Auror Miller says, completely ignoring Harry. "Why?"

"Because it's incredibly private, you insolent little-" She stops herself. Insulting an Auror might not be a good idea.

"She's lying to us, can't you see? What are you hiding, Malfoy?"

"Don't answer, Narcissa!" Harry says. "Miller, I release you of this interrogation. Please, leave now."

"But-"

"This will have consequences, Miller. Now, _leave_." Begrudgingly the Auror follows the order. "Can you continue?" Harry asks her. "Do you need a break?"

"I'm fine."

"I have to say," Ronald Weasly starts, "it's a bit strange that Malfoy will order someone to abduct her and do all this stuff just because he misses her. I mean, is he really that mental? Sure there was nothing else?"

Damnit, they're not gonna budge. She has to give them _something_. "Well, he told me he wanted to conceive another child with me. He said we had to."

"Why?" Harry asks.

"That he did not say."

"And did you? Are you pregnant?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, he …" She feels nauseous suddenly. "… he had his mind set on ..." Her neck hurts, the pain creeps slowly up into her head. Another headache is coming. "… a specific place. I could … escpae."

"Why a specific place and what was that place?"

Pearls of sweat roll down her chest, she grips the edges of her chair.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Malfoy?"

She shakes her head. "Can we take a break, please?"

"Sure. A fifteen minute break, everyone."

Narcissa gets up and hurries out of the room.

"Hey you can't leave this room," someone calls after her.

"Stop acting like she's a flight risk, for Merlin's sake," Harry says.

She hurries down the hallway without any sense of direction.

Harry catches up with her. "What' s wrong?" he asks.

"I need to…" The pain stabs itself into her head like a knife. "… somewhere private."

"In here." Potter opens up a door to their right and ushers her in.

The knife digs itself deeper into her brian. "Agh…" She falls to the floor, face upwards. The white ceiling morphes into a dark familiar room. She sees herself sitting at the breakfast table, crying. Over and over again she whispers "I won't do it" into her hands that cover her face. There's Lucius behind her, pointing his wand at her and saying "Obliviate." The pain stops.

Harry is kneeling next to her, patting her cheak. "Narcissa, can you hear me?"

Andy enters the room with someone trailing behind her. Hermione gasps and crouches down next to her. "What's wrong? What happened?" she asks and caresses her hair. Narcissa slaps her hand away.

"I need to talk you," she tells Harry. "Alone." Pointedly she looks at Andy and Hermione. She can see their reluctance, but they do leave them alone. Narcissa pulls herself up and sits down on a nearby chair, completely exhausted. Harry fetches her a glass of water and watches her expectantly.

"Lucius obliviated me," she says. "That's why I've been having these headaches. It's these repressed memories that my mind is trying to push forward despite the spell. Merlin, I'm stupid. I should have figured what these headaches mean."

"And how did you figure, now?"

"I just had a flashback. Nothing too specific, but I saw myself at the manor and then Lucius as he did the spell."

"When was that?"

"Must have been years ago, maybe even decades. We looked young." Suddenly these past weeks gain some sort of sense.

Harry nods to himself as if he too realizes something. "And whatever the reason is why he obliviated you, is probably also the reason why he abducted you."

"Exactly."

"Were you being honest when you said you don't know why he abducted you and wants another child? Because I know you weren't completely honest in there."

"I really don't know, but I need to, Harry."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know much about Obliviation."

"It can be undone", she says. "It's not easy and it's painful, but possible."

"I'm assuming our Head Legilimens should be able to. I'll talk to her if you want to."

"Please do so. I need to make sense of all of this."

"I understand. I'll call you once I know more. For now, you should go home and rest."

Harry helps her up and she steps out of the room and there she is, leaning against the opposite wall. "You forgot your purse in the interrogation room," Hermione says and holds out her purse.

She takes it. "Thank you."

"No problem. Are you feeling better or do you need something?"

"I'm fine, now."

"Good. Well, I'll head back to work then," Hermione says and turns, leaving her feeling awfully guilty. Hermione is so sweet and she's been so mean.

"Wait," she says and Hermione turns around once more. "I've been horrible to you. I'm sorry."

"I just don't understand it, you know." Hermione pauses, not looking at her when she next speaks. "Do you want me to leave you alone? I just want to help you and if that's what you need, I'll do it."

Her stomach drops. It would be so easy to tell her to leave and just not deal with all of this, but deep down … "No, I don't want you to leave but I … I don't know how to do this. I can't handle all of this." She starts crying.

Hermione embraces her, rubbing her back, and she reciprocates. "I cannot begin to fathom what you've been through," Hermione says, "but please don't shut me out. We'll find a way. Together we'll get through this."

Narcissa realizes only now that she's holding Hermione how much she's been needing to feel her. "Can I come over to your place tonight?"

"Of course, whenever you like."

She kisses Hermione on the cheek before she meets Andy to go home. They have a late lunch; she's completely starving. She tells Andy about the flashback she had. "I cannot believe he did that, Andy. And we looked _so_ young. To think I lived with this spell on my mind for decades …" She shudders.

"I can't believe it either. It's disgusting. When are you gonna get it lifted?"

"I don't know, yet, but I want it done as soon as possible. I'm sure I'll get a date soon because of the connection there might be to everything else that's been happening lately."

"And what about the other thing you want done? You still want it to do it tonight?"

"I told Hermione I would come over tonight."

Andy smiles. "That's good. We should do it tomorrow then. You'll need some rest after that."

…

Hermione's flat is quiet when Narcissa arrives, except for the sound of the shower. Hermione probably just got home from work. Her ginger cat is swaying around Narcissa's feet. "Hey, little man." She picks him up and cuddles him; there are very few things as relaxing as cuddling a cat.

"Well, he's a lucky guy." Hermione walks into the room, looking beautifully vulnerable in a white bathrobe with wet hair and no make-up.

It touches Narcissa. She kisses Hermione on the cheek and holds out the rose she brought for her. "I truly am sorry," she says. "I think I forgot I'm not the only one who's been through a lot."

"Don't worry about it. I don't know how I would have reacted if I were in your shoes. You're here now. That's what matters. And if I do anything wrong, tell me."

"It's not you." _It's me_ , she wants to say. She's still afraid Hermione will reject her once she knows everything. They get comfortable on the sofa. Hermione tells her what the past weeks have been like for her and it gives Narcissa a new perspective to hear the other side. "What's that?" she asks eventually, pointing at a red envelope on the table.

"That's a howler. From your son."

She laughs. "Are you serious?"

"It screamed at me, asking how I dare not inform him first thing that you are back."

"I'm sorry. He should have sent that to me. It's been two days and I have not seen him. I'm a horrible mother."

"Don't say that. You've had so much to deal with just today. You'll see him and it'll be fine. Speaking of today, would you tell me what you told Harry?"

Narcissa goes on to tell Hermione everything she told Harry and asks her to accompany her when she'll get her memories back. She's afraid what they'll reveal. Hermione goes to bed before she does; she had been falling asleep on and off on the sofa. Narcissa doesn't feel tired. She feels strangely melancholic being here. She has her life back and yet it is not the same. Eventually she joins Hermione in the bedroom and lies down next to her. She watches her sleeping for a while, mesmerzized by the simplistic beauty. She tugs an auburn lock behind Hermione's ear, her fingers ghosting over her cheek longingly. She needs some type of assurance that it will be alright, that _they_ will be alright. She slides her thumb across Hermione's lip and the witch kisses it, opening her eyes. Narcissa leans down and kisses her. It feels so good, so right, she doesn't know what she's been waiting for. Her tongue seeks out Hermione's, velvet on velvet. The witch tries to stifle a moan. It fires Narcissa's desire. She undoes Hermione's bathrobe, spreads her legs. "Mmh … I can smell you."

Hermione blushes. "We don't have to do-"

"Shhh …. The only thing I wanna hear …" She moves her hands up Hermione's thighs. "… is my name when I make you cum." Narcissa enters her with two fingers. She doesn't have time for foreplay, tonight. She needs this raw. She moves her thumb over the little glistening bud and Hermione falls into a beautiful rhythm of needy sounds that crescendo quickly. "You look incredible like this, all flushed and spent," Narcissa tells her.

"So do you and I wanna see it."

Hermione reverses their roles, pulls her skirt and panties down in one move. The desire clinging to her clothes makes it obvious that she doesn't need foreplay either. Hermione dives in. She doesn't taste her, she _eats_ her. "Mmh … someone's starving … ah …" Narcissa grabs the blanket tightly. Desire rising fast her eyes dart around unfocused. They land on a grand chandelier hanging on the mahogany ceiling. Her breathing becomes shallow. She looks down between her legs and sees a mass of black curls. Suddenly she's petrified, unable to move her body, except for her heart; it beats out of her chest. The woman chuckles, sending vibrations through her that feel like torture instead of pleasure. She can't move, she can't speak. Frozen in a nightmare she endures Bellatrix' touch, though every part of her wants to scream.

"Cissa? Are you ok?"

Slowly reality comes back to her and she recognizes the woman above her for who she truly is. "Get off me."

Hermione does so immediately, looking confused. Narcissa raps the blanket around her middle. She goes into the living room to get herself a glass of Firewhisky. The burning taste of it should ground her. By the _pat pat_ sound of feet on wood she knows Hermione's following her, probably wanting an explanation and indeed, Hermione asks, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No."

"Did … did Lucius ..." Hermione clears her throat. Narcissa downs the Firewhisky. "I mean … did he-"

"Yes," Narcissa interrupts her. She doesn't need to hear the actual words.

"You had to think of that jut now, didn't you?"

Narcissa shakes her head. Of course that's the first conclusion Hermione jumps to after everything that transpired between Lucius and her. She's terrified of telling Hermione what she really remembered just now, but she knows there is no way around it. Otherwise it will always haunt her, hiding in the back of her mind to jump out and ruin situations like these. But first things first. "Bellatrix is alive," she says.

"What?! Are you serious?"

When Narcissa looks at Hermione with her eyes round and wide she sees the 17 year old girl from Malfoy Manor. She takes Hermione's left arm and pulls back the bathrobe sleeve. Moonlight reflects on flawless pale skin.

"It vanished a couple of weeks ago over night," Hermione says. "I have no idea how it happened."

"Are you happy it's gone?" Narcissa asks.

"Of course. It was horrible. Everyday that slur reminded me of what she did to me."

Narcissa nods. "I'm glad. At least something positive has come out of this."

"What do you mean?"

"I never even got to tell you. I found the counter-curse to the curse Bellatrix inflicted upon the knife she used."

Hermione looks taken aback. "You found out what curse it was? Not even the healers at St. Mungo's did."

"I'm not surprised. They were looking in the wrong places. I found it in a book in the Black library; a book one of my ancestors wrote. I still have it here." Narcissa goes over to her side of the wardrobe where she stores a couple of books in a box on the bottom; Hermione's book shelf is full to the brim. She opens the page in question and hands the book to Hermione. The witch reads the paragraph in mere seconds.

"But you didn't do that, did you?" Hermione asks, a slight note of anxiety apparent.

"I wanted to, but I didn't manage to talk to you about it before everything happened. No, I didn't do it." After a pause she adds, "Bellatrix did."

Hermione's eyes dart to her left arm. Narcissa pulls up the sleeve. Hermione's eyes widen at the carvings. _Mudblood lover_. It's still red, not quite raw, but still sensitive.

"Cissa …. I'm so sorry," Hermione says. "I never would have wanted you to walk around with that." Hermione tears up.

"I know." Narcissa caresses her cheek. "I know, baby. Don't cry for me. It's not that bad."

"How can you say that?!"

It really isn't that bad considering everything else. She can live the scar, but she doesn't know how to live with the memories of the other things Bellatrix did. Narcissa turns away from Hermione, scared of her reaction, as she says, "That's not all she did. She … came onto me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that she … well, we … fuck." Now she is tearing up. In one breath she says quickly, "I mean that she slept with me."

Hermione is silent; far too silent for far too long. Narcissa draws the blanket tightly around her, pressing a hand over her mouth. She can imagine the disgusted look on her face.

"You mean," Hermione finally speaks, "she raped you?"

Narcissa shrugs. "I guess." There is this voice inside her head that tells her she has no right to call it that, because she _liked_ it. She cannot stand that thought, cannot stand Hermione's presence. She hurries back into the bedroom and puts on her skirt and leaves.

"Where are you going?" Hermione follows her closely. Narcissa puts on her coat, opens the door. "Narcisaa!" Hermione grabs her wrist, stopping her. "Please stay. I'm so sorry."

"You don't wanna be touching me," she says and wrenches her arm free. "And you shouldn't feel sorry for me."

"You don't make sense, Cissa. Of course, I feel sorry. What happened to you is horrible."

"Couldn't have been that horrible if I enjoyed it," she mumbles.

"Come again?"

"I said I enjoyed it," she says, her voice now strong and raw. "Do you hear me? I enjoyed my own sister fucking me. Do you see how deranged I am?! And you wanna tell me you wanna be with someone like me?" She storms out the door, unable to bear Hermione's presence any longer. And she's sure Hermione'll be glad she'll be gone.

Only the witch follows her. Hermione steps in front of her and forces her stop. "I'm not sure what you're saying," Hermione says, "but I won't let you leave, now. You can't run away every time something bothers you or we have an argument. Come back inside and talk to me."

She knows Hermione is right. Running away is never a solution. So without saying anything she comes back inside. She throws her coat carelessly onto the living room sofa and flops down on it, feeling incredibly defeated.

Hermione sits down opposite her. "Now, what happened? What did Bellatrix do?"

Narcissa is silent for a long time. She tries to think of a way to word this that isn't so crude, but she can't come up with anything but the plain words. Several times she attempts to speak, but the words won't come out. "Can you get the Pensieve?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry. You don't want to see that, of course. Stupid of me to-"

"No,",Hermione stops her. "If you're willing to show me, I want to see." Hermione gets up and opens the little cupboard above the fire place that keeps the Pensieve. She puts it on the tea table where it hovers. Expectantly Hermione looks at her.

"I don't have a wand," Narcissa says.

"Oh right." Hermione takes out her own wand and holds it to her temple. "Ready?"

Narcissa nods and from the corner of her eye she sees a light silvery string being pulled out of her head. She sighs once it's done. There's something really relaxing about removing memories from your mind.

Hermione flicks her wand and the silvery string mixes with the liquid in the Pensieve. She bends over it. "You're not coming with me?"

"No." The memory plays over in her head often enough as is; no need to see it again. Hermione dives in. Narcissa fiddles with her fingers as Hermione is lost in her memory. It takes so long; much longer than she thought. It's just one horrible blur in her memory.

Eventually Hermione comes back up, tears brimming in her eyes. "Oh, Cissa ..." She comes over and takes her in her arms. "I'm so sorry."

Choking back tears of her own, she says, "How can you say that?"

"Did you want to sleep with her?"

"What?!" Narcissa breaks the embrace. "Of course not!"

"See, that's what-"

"But I came ..." Her voice is very small and her cheeks very hot.

"It happens. Our bodies react to touch. Don't beat yourself up over it."

Narcissa cries, feeling as though Hermione took a huge weight filled with guilt and shame off her.

"Maybe you should see Luna again," Hermione suggests.

"I probably should. I've always found the sessions with her helpful." She looks at Hermione, searches her eyes for a while, unable to believe that _this_ is her reaction to what she just saw. "You're not disgusted by me, then?"

"Not at all." Hermione kisses her. "I love you."

* * *

Hello, dear readers, I'm sorry I couldn't keep up my uploading schedule. I haven't felt very creative recently and I've been away on holiday. I'm afraid that little breaks like these will happen again because I still have to write the last two or three chapters and I don't think I'll be able to while editing the other chapters at the same time. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. Please give me your feedback (good or bad), if you'd like, of course ...


	7. Chapter 7

It's nine a.m. and she's on her second cup of coffee. It's not something one should be drinking in her circumstances, but those will change soon enough. Andy and she have an appointment this afternoon, which she dreads. What she dreads even more right now, though, is the appointment she has in about an hour with the Head Legilimens of the Ministry. Harry's owl woke Hermione and her up in the early morning hours, asking her to come by this morning. Before that they will stop in Diagon Alley to meet Draco. She's dying to see him, but also slightly nervous, unsure of how these past months have effected him. They use Hermione's fire place to get to the public fireplace station in Diagon. It is as crowded as ever. She almost falls as a wizard arrives through the same fire place as her only seconds later and bumps right into her. He curses under his breath and side-eyes her, his expression turning curious once he recognizes her. "Let's find Draco," she tells Hermione. "I'm not keen on being scrutinized like an endangered species."

"You're a beautiful species. That's why they're looking."

Narcissa snorts. "Always charming …"

It doesn't take long until they spot Draco, standing out of the crowd with his platinum blonde hair. Before she can say something, he hugs her tightly. Some moments do better without words. "How are you?" he asks. He holds her at arm length, looking her up and down. "Potter allowed me to read your testimony, but—"

"I'm ok," she cuts him off. A moment of understanding passes between them, in which she begs him silently not to ask. He nods.

"Do you want to grab drinks before we go the Ministry?" Draco asks. "We still got some time."

"Actually," Narcissa says, "I'd like to go to Ollivander's. I lost my wand that night." She had asked Harry whether they had found it, but unfortunately they hadn't. One of the Knights must have come back to get it, erasing all traces.

"You've been without a wand for three months? I can't imagine what that's like," Draco says.

"You know, I could teach you some wandless magic, if you'd like," Hermione suggests as they make their way through Diagon. "You can't hold it up for a long time as it is so draining, but it can be useful in emergency situations."

"I would like that," she says. "It might help me feel more secure."

Ollivander's looks almost the same as it did 35 years ago when she got her wand. Almost for the front looks a lot more polished than it should given how long Ollivander has been in business, but it had to be rebuild after the Death Eaters destroyed the street. The smell of old wood hits her as they enter the store. She had only been her twice, once to get her own wand and then to get Draco's, but the wand boxes upon wand boxes piling up all the way to the ceiling are still impressive. There's a special atmosphere to this place.

"I had hoped I might see you soon," Mr. Ollivander says, coming out from the back of the shop, carrying a stack of wand boxes. "Incomplete without a wand, aren't we?"

"How do you know?" she asks.

"It was in the papers," he says and his self measuring band starts measuring her up and down.

"Right." She has no idea how her case has been covered in the media, how much people actually know. The measuring band stretches and measures the space between her eyes before it snaps back and falls onto the counter.

"Let's see, then," Mr. Ollivander says and pulls out a box from the shelf behind him. He takes the wand out carefully and hands it to her.

Narcissa's rather unimpressed. It's a very plain, light wand. Olivander's intuition is rarely wrong, so she gives it a flick. The lamp on the ceiling explodes. She hand the wand back with an apologetic smile.

"Alright. Something else, then." The old man climbs the ladder rested against the shelf on the right and pulls out a box close to the ceiling. "I wonder …," he mutters as he climbs back down. "Most peculiar, but given everything that has happened … maybe …"

Hermione, Draco and herself all look at each other with curiosity and then at the box as Ollivander opens it, as if what lies within will be more than just a wand. And sweet Merlin, it is, of course, just a wand, but what a wand it is. The shaft is jet black and ends in a rich gold handle, adorned with flowers.

"I thought you might like this one," Mr. Ollivander says, smirking. "Let's see if you two are meant to be."

She takes the wand and a warm, tingeling feeling travels from her fingers through her hand, arm and into her chest. How she has missed this feeling. Ollivander nods encouragingly. She give it a swish. A bright, crystal clear light spreads from the tip of the wand all through the room.

As the light distinguishes Mr. Ollivander says, "How wonderful. Curious, most curious indeed, but wonderful."

"Excuse me," Hermione says, "what is curious?"

"Well, it is quite a change from your previous wand, I'd say. Your previous wand was made of Hawthorne and the core was Pheonix feather, was it not?"

"Yes, it was."

"This wand is made of Ebony. Ebony is best with a highly individual witch or wizard who is courageous enough to be themselves. They are not easily swayed and hold on firmly to their beliefs. The core is dragon heartstring. The string comes from the same dragon that gave _your_ wand its core, Ms. Granger. Curious, isn't it?"

"So our wands," Hermione condludes, "are sisters?"

"Indeed," Mr. Ollivander says. "Indeed."

"Mh, not that curious at all, if you ask me," Draco says and shrugs. "So, you're taking it?"

"Yes, I do. I mean, I'll take it, the wand."

Draco sniggers and Hermione blushes, but smiles while Narcissa pays. She slips her new wand into her wand holster. Her spirits lift immediately. "Now, onto the less pleasant part," she says. They apperate straight into the Ministry, which they're only able to do because of Hermione's position. Hermione and she hold hands all the way to Harry's office. On the way, every now and than a witch or wizard greets Draco.

"Fellow Aurors in training," he says.

"You are getting along well with your colleagues, then?" she asks.

"Mostly yes. There are some who are … weary of me, but that was to be expected."

"Old prejudice dies hard," Hermione says. "Don't ever let that interfere with your drive. If I had paid attention to some of the prejudice that still exists against Muggleborns, I had never gotten this far. And you've got the full support of the Head Auror."

"That doesn't exactly make it easier," Draco says. "He's an amazing mentor, though."

"Who's amazing?" Harry catches up with them.

"You are," Draco says.

"Why thank you," Harry says, blushing. "I could say the same about you. He's our best student, Narcissa."

"Should we schedule a double date for Friday night, guys?" Hermione asks. They all break into laughter as Harry leads them further down into the depths of the Ministry.

"I was surprised you were able to make an appointment so quickly, Harry," Narcissa says.

"Me too," he says. "Our Head Legilimens made some space especially for you. It is rather important that we know the nature of your suppressed memories after all."

They pass the Department of Mysteries. Shills run down her spine. They're getting closer to the Department of Legillimency and Occlumency.

"Don't be afraid," Harry tells her, " is amazing at his job."

Unfortunately that does nothing to minimize her fear. It's not the actual process she's afraid of, but the result.

"That's it," he says, pointing toward a door to his left. "We'll wait here."

Narcissa knocks and after a brisk "Come in" she enters. The room looks quite nice with a couch against the far wall of the room and large windows that allow a view into the Muggle part of the city.

"Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy. I'm Connor Bernhard, the Head Legilimens," a rather young, good looking man says.

"Good morning. It's nice of you to give me an appointment so quickly. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. Mr. Potter told me it's of outmost importance we restore your memory and I'm sure it is very uncomfortable to live in the knowledge to have that spell on you."

"It sure is, though this here feels uncomfortable, too."

He laughs a bit. "Don't be nervous. It's quick. Please, lay down on the couch."

She doesn't like that at all and it must show on her face. "It's just a precaution," Bernhard says. "You might faint after wards."

"Alright." She walks over to the couch. "Have I seen you before?" she asks as she lays down. He seems somewhat familiar.

"I have certainly seen you, Mrs. Malfoy." Bernhard laughs. "How could I not know of such a formidable witch as yourself, but we haven't met."

"My bad. You seem familiar."

"Please try to relax, close your eyes. It'll make it easier."

She does and lays one hand on her stomach, the other one falls to her side next to her new wand.

"Alright, relax your mind, I'm about to start." She hears him stepping closer. "Oblivia-"

Her eyes snap open. "Protego!" The Legilimens staggers backwards. The spell rebounds and throws her into _his_ mind. She exits it right away, not wasting any time. She gets off the couch and hurries toward the door. Bernhard is apparently too knocked out by the abrupt invasion of his mind to do any magic but he does manage to hold onto her ankle, making her fall. "Help!" she yells.

The door bursts open. "Stupyfy!" Harry roars, throwing Bernhard against the wall.

"Expelliarmus!" Bernhard's wand flies from his hand into Hermione's, who rushes over to her with Draco at her side. "What happened?" her son asks.

"He wanted to obliviate me!" she says. "What do you want from me?", she shouts at the Legilimens who is now bound at the wrists.

Suddenly Bernhard seems awfully calm. "You may have escaped the manor, but you will never truly escape. It's inevitable, don't you understand? Inevitable."

"What's inevitable is you going to Azakaban," Harry says. "Go home right away," he tells them. He flicks his wand and Narcissa can feel wards lifting. "You can Disapparate straight away. I'll be with you in a moment."

…

The atmosphere at Hermione's apartment is tense. Neither Hermione nor Draco leave her side as if someone might snatch her any moment.

"There's no one we can trust beside ourselves, is there?" Draco wonders.

"It seems like it," Hermione says.

"It seems like the first time around," she says. Both her son and girlfriend watch her carefully, now.

"What was it like the first time?" Hermione asks.

"It started very subtle, way more subtle than the second time around," she says. "It didn't feel dangerous for a long time. It was individual people turning against each other, a seemingly random attack here and there …. Of course, I understood more of it than most people, but for most people there just was that feeling of insecurity that they couldn't quite put their finger on."

"That sounds oddly familiar, doesn't it?" Hermione asks.

"Draco nods. "That's exactly what's been happening these past months."

"Only question is," Harry says, emerging out of thin air and scaring them all to death, "why are you at the center of it?"

"I'm not at the center of it," she denies.

"Yes, you are," Hermione says.

Narcissa gets up to get a drink in the kitchen and to not hear what they're going to say. This is what she has been trying to ignore since she escaped. She does not want to be at the center of whatever this is.

"I never believed Lucius took you simply because he still loves you," Harry says. "He could have gotten to you easier, sooner if that was the case. It might play a part, but there must be something else. We will see tomorrow."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asks.

"I've scheduled an appointment for tomorrow with one of our other Legilimens. She feels up for the task and I trust her.``

"I don't," she says. After today she cannot imagine trusting a stranger enough to let them into her mind again. "Would you do it?" she asks Harry.

"I really would prefer not to. Spells on the mind can go terribly wrong if not executed correctly and I'm no expert in this field. I'm really sorry for what happened today, but I'm really confident that won't happen with Legilimens Chang. We went to school with her."

"Cho Chang?" Hermione asks. Harry nods. "She was in the DA with us. She's always been on our side, but if it makes you feel safer we could all be there with you."

"Fine. Doesn't seem like I have a choice anyway."

"Don't you wanna know what happened?" Hermione asks.

"Sure." Actually, she's not so sure anymore. Today has left her scared to the bone. She thought she had found safety when she escaped, but today proofed her wrong and whatever her suppressed memories will reveal it won't be good.

…

She arrives at Andy's late in the afternoon. Andy is already awaiting her. "How was your appointment?" she asks.

"Disastrous. The Legilimens was on their side, Andy. He was with the Knights. Now, I'm scheduled for another appointment, tomorrow."

"I'm so sorry, Cissa. Are you sure you still wanna do it today?"

"Absolutely. I want to be done with at least one of these things already." She lies down on the sofa and pulls her blouse up to expose her belly.

"Does her Hermione know?" Andy asks.

"No. It's best we do in the early morning some day when she's at work."

"Right, you can rest here afterwards. It'll hurt, but it should be fine in a couple of hours. Like I said, it'll take a couple of days to brew the potion. So I'll just determine how far along you are. What did you say you thought?"

"About three weeks, maybe. I didn't have much sense of time there, but it was rather towards the end of the abduction."

"That's good. Should make it less painful. Let's see then." Andromeda takes out her wand and starts a complex pattern of wand movements. An elaborate pattern of silver strings starts to form above her belly. "Pregnant indeed," Andy says as they turn purple. Soon the lines connect to form a chart. Andy opens her mouth as if to say something, but closes it again, looking utterly confused.

"What is it?" Narcissa asks, but Andy just looks at her with a weird expression on her face, that she can't quite figure out. It makes her nervous. It is seldom that her sister is lost for words. "Andy, what's wrong?"

Andy stops the incantation, the purple lines evaporate, and puts her wand back up her sleeve. Looking Narcissa straight in the eyes she says, "You're three months pregnant."


	8. Chapter 8

The bed is wonderfully soft, the sheets smell of roses and the street outside lies beautifully quiet and still she cannot sleep. It's late at night and she's lying in a bed in one of the rooms of the Golden Dragon; the very same hotel her son had fled to when he felt he had no place left to go. That's exactly how she's feeling. She had a huge row with Andy. Her sister had the nerve to accuse her of cheating on Hermione with a man. Never has Narcissa been so baffled and hurt by something her eldest sister did; not even when she ran away with a Muggleborn all these years ago. That Andromeda would not only think that she would cheat on Hermione, but with a man on top of that … It's revolting to her. Does she believe Narcissa did everything she did this past year for shits and giggles? So she left Andy's in a fit. At first she was going to go back to Black Manor. She hates the place, but since she can neither face Hermione nor Draco right now, she saw no other option. Then it hit her that she has a shit ton of gold in the bank and could rent a room in the Dragon for months, if she wanted to. So here she is, unable to get some sleep, because while Andromeda's accusation is outrageous, Narcissa too has been wracking her brain as to how she can possibly be three months pregnant. Maybe her sense of time went completely off the charts and the incident at the church happened much longer ago; maybe Lucius did something to her right when they abducted her and Obliviated her. Eouldn't be the first time. Or maybe Andromeda's spell work went completely wrong. She cannot truly make sense of any of these explanations, though. Eventually she falls asleep from exhaustion …

It was a short, tormented sleep. The sun was barely just rising as she woke up, which was lucky in the end, because she had to be at the Ministry even earlier today to try and get her memories back for a second time. Her mood is already down and it only worsens when she arrives at Harry's office and sees that, aside from her girlfriend and her son, Andromeda is there, too. The audacity her sister posses to show up here.

"Good morning, darling," Hermione says, placing a tentative kiss on her lips. "Are you alright?" She lowers her voice to a whisper and says, "I was worried when you didn't come home last night."

"I'm fine, I just needed some time to myself. I should have said something, I guess. I'm really sorry."

"It's ok," Hermione says, taking her hand. "You're going through a lot at the moment."

She's feels guilty immediately, seeing how understanding Hermione is. She is going through a lot, but that shouldn't be an excuse to be selfish. She hugs Draco and to her great dismay Andy goes in for a hug as well. Narcissa whispers into her ear, "What are you doing here?"

"Being there for you," Andy replies, which has Narcissa snorting. The exchange doesn't go unnoticed by Hermione and Draco.

Harry comes walking down the corridor. "Good morning, everyone. Come along," he says, keeping on walking. "Chang's office is just around the corner."

"Her office is not in the Legilimency Department?" Hermione asks. "She _is_ a certified Legilimens, isn't she?"

"Don't worry," Harry says. "She is, but the Legilimency Department is getting way to small. We simply haven't got enough room for all our Legilimens down there."

"They've started expansion on the Department last week," Draco says."Noise is unbelievable."

They arrive at a door that has a little emblem on it that reads _Cho Chang. Junior Leglilimens. Department of Legilimency and Occlumency_. Harry knocks and a barely audible female voice beckons them in. "Good morning, Cho," he greets the small young woman who is awaiting them behind her desk.

Chang gets up to greet them all. "Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy," she says offering her hand. "Harry told me you wanted company while I lift the spell?"

"Yes, if that's not an issue. Please don't take it as a personal offense, but …"

"It's not an issue at all," Chang interrupts her. "And perfectly understandable after yesterday's incident. Please have a seat on the sofa and you," she addresses Harry, Draco, Hermione and Andromeda, "can have a seat here". She gestures toward another sofa and two chairs. "Before we start I would like to ask you some questions." She conjures up a piece of parchment and starts writing. "What makes you think you've been put under the Obliviation charm?"

"Well, at first I didn't make the connection, but I've been having severe headaches for a while, more like a migraine that comes and goes out of the blue."

"A piercing pain?"

"Yes."

"Have these headaches been accompanied by feelings of nausea, temporary lack of sight or hearing, dizziness?"

"Yes, all of that."

"Has there been anything else that led you to this conclusion?"

"Two days ago I remembered something. I had a sort of flashback, I guess. I saw myself when I was way younger, crying, and then Lucius speaking the incantation."

Chang's brows shoot upwards. "Are you a trained Occlumens?"

"I am trained in Occlumency and Legilimency, yes," she answers. She doubts that Voldemort's teaching methods would make her a _trained_ Occlumens in the eyes of a certified Ministry Legilimens. "Why?" she asks. "Was that flashback a bad thing?"

"No. It's just that it requires an extremely high skill level of Occlumency for the mind to be able to break through the spell even remotely. Even most Ministry Occlumenses couldn't do it." Chang puts the parchment aside. "May I ask you to lay down, now, as a precaution? You will feel very dizzy when I lift the spell. You might even faint or become very nauseous." She points toward a bucket next to the sofa. "The memories might come back immediately or it might take a while."

Narcissa does as she is told. Cho Chang sits down next to her, raising her wand above her. Narcissa braces herself anxiously for what is about to come. "Finite Oblivate," Chang says. It does nothing. "Please, keep your walls down," Chang tells her. "It will make it easier and less painful."

"I'm sorry." It's a habit that is hard to get rid of, but she tries.

"Finite Obliviate."

Narcissa feels a tugging at her brain. It's light at first, but grows more intense by the second, making her wince.

"Restorio Memoriam."

Her head tingles, then stings as if hundreds of small needles are stabbing into it. Her breathing quickens as her vision blurs and her head spins. The ceiling above her starts to swirl rapidly. It morphs into darkness, a dark corridor aligned with shelves upon which hundreds of tiny light bulbs float. She holds one of them in her hands, shaking and gazing at it with a mixture of awe and fear.

"Mrs. Malfoy."

The little light bulb spins.

"Mrs. Malfoy!"

The darkness around her grows lighter and lighter until she finds herself looking at the white ceiling again.

"Mrs. Malfoy, are you alright?" Cho Chang asks.

She's shaking and sweating and her head still hurts. "Yes, I'm alright." She sits up and the entire room sways.

"Easy now. Please, remain seated." Chang hands her a glass of water.

"And?" Draco asks.

"Do you remember anything?" Hermione aks.

She takes a big gulp of water. "No, I don't remember a thing."

…

The mood is dampened for the rest of the day. Apparently everyone seems disappointed that she didn't have some grand revelation after Chang lifted the spell. She has no intention of telling Draco or Hermione or Andy for that matter that she did remember something. At least for now, not until she can make fully sense of it. Of course, the broader sense is clear. The light bulb she was holding in that memory was unmistakably a prophecy, a prophecy about her for prophecies can only be retrieved by those whom they concern and the content of a prophecy is very rarely good news.

They went to Andy's after the appointment. Narcissa had wanted to go back home, but to no avail. Andy was adamant they come over to her place where her sister has been doting over her since the moment they arrived. It was unbearable.

Narcissa has excused herself five minutes ago under the pretense to have to lay down for a moment. In truth, she's sitting at a desk in Andy's study, rereading the note she just wrote.

 _Harry,_

 _I need to get into the Department of Mysteries without anyone knowing. It is of_ _outmost_ _importance and urgency. Let me know if you are willing to assist me and when. Don't talk to anyone about this._

 _Narcissa_

"Come here," she tells the little barn owl perched on the windowsill. "Deliver this to Harry Potter immediately," she says as she fastens the roll to the owl's leg, "and deliver his response only to me. Understood?" The owl toots twice and takes off.

There's a knock at the door and Andromeda enters. "Needing to take a nap, eh?"

"What do you want?" Narcissa asks.

"Do you still want to do it? If so, I would still brew the potion, but we need to hurry. Three months is already-"

"No. I cannot abort this child without knowing how I fell pregnant and I'm honestly surprised that you would still help me given how you're judging me."

"I'm not judging you."

"Yes, you are and to be quite frank, Andromeda, I have rarely been so disappointed in someone. That you doubt my love for Hermione or my love for women in general-"

"I don't! Jeez, this why I've been trying to talk to you all day. I don't doubt your orientation, but maybe you were a bit confused and wanted to … I don't know … make sure."

"Just stop it, Andy. I have no idea how I got pregnant and to be honest it is terrifying, but I can tell you this: I was not confused and I did not sleep with any man since Lucius and until you can believe that I have nothing to say to you."

She leaves the house in a hurry, dragging Hermione along. She doesn't get much sleep this night either. Hermione's hand on her stomach is almost unbearable.

…

Three sleepless nights and two restless days pass before she receives a message from Harry. His response was positive. She had hoped for a response quicker but she cannot truly blame him. One of the headlines of the Daily Prophet today reads _Diagon Alley in fear – series of attacks on Muggleborn-owned businesses_ and Narcissa can only guess the stress Potter has been under. She reads the article for the third time in disbelief.

 _In the night from Tuesday to Wednesday a series of attacks shook the vendors of Diagon Alley (we reported). The case soon took a curious turn as a set of Aurors, among them no other than Head Auror Harry Potter, was ordered to investigate. Usually,_ _vandalism_ _is a case for the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. The involvement of the Auror Office lets us suspect that we are not dealing with our common street criminals._ _T_ _his suspicion is only fueled by the fact that the Ministry kept the involvement of Aurors under the rug until yesterday, when one of our reporters spotted Harry Potter at the scene of crime. Why did the Ministry lie to its citizens? What are they hiding from us?_

 _After our persistent reporter questioned an irritated Harry Potter yesterday, the Head Auror comfirmed that the shops that had been attacked were all owned by Muggleborn witches and wizards. That cannot be a coincidence._

 _For weeks now, strange happenings have_ _upset_ _the country._ _F_ _rom_ _the disappearance of_ _more and more former Death Eaters to Dementors leaving their guard duty at Azkaban._ _A_ _nd now_ _with_ _these attacks on Muggleborn vendors we cannot help but think that Dark forces are on the rise once again. Not to mention the mysterious abduction of one Narcissa Malfoy. About three months ago Narcissa Malfoy, still_ _the_ _wife of Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, was abducted_ _or so she claims._ _To this day the Ministry keeps quiet about the circumstances of her abduction and escape_ _two_ _week_ _s_ _ago. Her girlfriend, no other than the Muggleborn Hermione Granger, has refused any comment on the case or the rumours that Mrs. Malfoy might be involved_ ….

Narcissa crunches the paper up in her hands. So now the Prophet accuses her of being involved with Death Eaters again. What are they thinking. That she staged her own abduction? Disgusting.

"Have you seen this rubbish?"she asks as Hermione comes walking in.

"Yes, and then I threw it in the rubbish, so you wouldn't have to read it", the witch responds while unpacking a box of that Chinese Muggle food.

"You shouldn't bee eating that," Narcissa says. Her girlfriend has basically been living off on what Muggles call fast food these past weeks.

"But it's good," Hermione mumbles, chewing on a mouthful.

"It's not healthy. I'll take care of the cooking from now on and I'll put something aside that you can take to work."

"You're sweet," Hermione says.

It's the least she can do. Hermione has been working non stop these past weeks on the investigation squad of the Auror Office while, on the side, managing the Department for Magical Law Enforcement.

"People have been coming up to me all day," Hermione continues, "asking me whether the rumours surrounding you are true. Complete strangers, can you believe it? It took all of my will power not to have go at them."

Hermione shouldn't have to go through that. She's got enough on her plate. An idea pops into her head. "Maybe I should talk about it publicly."

"You mean as in an interview?"

"Yes. It might clear up some things."

"True, but it would also mean that you would have to let people know that the Death Eaters have reorganized themselves or the Knights of Walpurgis rather."

"Let me guess," Narcissa says. "Kingsley doesn't want that."

"Mh." Hermione takes another bite.

"Do you think it's a good idea? Keeping people in the dark like that. Shouldn't they know what's happening so they can protect themselves better."

Hermione chews awfully long on her bite of food. Tentatively she says, "I tend to agree. Kingsley, though, is afraid it will cause an uproar and panic when it could be avoided."

"Avoided? How?"

"He hopes to catch the Death Eaters before they can make a move."

Narcissa tsks. "They've already made a move! Had these shop owners known that the Death Eaters were back, they could have protected themselves!"

"Muggleborns have been protecting themselves forever, Narcissa, whether the Death Eaters were active or not."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that prejudice against Muggleborns has existed before Voldemort and will continue to exist," Hermione says casually, too casually for Narcissa's liking, as if it was obvious that Muggleborns need to be cautious.

"Have you experienced prejudice after he fell?" Narcissa asks.

"Have I?" Hermione laughs. "I chose a career in the Ministry, one of the oldest institutions in the Wizarding world. Of course I have."

It's one of these moments were Narcissa feels as if she doesn't know the woman in front of her.

"Hey", Hermione says, taking her hand, "don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

"Please be careful. If something happens-"

"Shh. Nothing will happen to me," Hermione whispers before their lips connect, lingering. Hermione places a hand on her hip, tentatively. She can barely feel it. It's sweet, but also heartbreaking how careful Hermione is. Narcissa doesn't want her to be afraid to touch her. So she straddles her, grinds down on her while she nibbles on her earlobe. "We don't have to do this, Cissa." Hermione stops her with a raspy voice that tells Narcissa how much she does want this.

"I know we don't have to, but I want to." Narcissa unbuttons Hermione's blouse.

"Are you sure?" the witch asks.

Narcissa takes Hermione's hand and guides it into her pants, inside her underwear. Hermione gasps. "Do you feel that?" Narcissa slides Hermione's hand through her wetness. "No one makes me wet like that." She presses Hermione's hand to her core, biting her lip. "Touch me." Hermione starts moving her hand, pressing it more firmly to her core. "Merlin …" Narcissa slides her hand into Hermione's trousers to find her as equally ready. They find a slow, but firm rhythm, driving each other to the peak quickly. "I need you to look at me," Narcissa tells her. Hermione does, struggling, though, as her arousal intensifies. Although they've had sex so many times, this feels incredibly intimate. Faces only inches apart, they breathe each other's breaths as they climb towards the peak together.

…

The sleeping woman lying next to her raises her chest rhythmically, slowly. The sight of it is a wonderfully calming contrast to the storm raging inside Narcissa right now. It's almost midnight. It's almost time. She leaves Hermione's side and goes into the living room as to not wake her. She feels sick already before she Apparates.

 _Pop._

She spins, rushes through what feels like a very tight tube, until her feet hit solid ground. She spots him immediately on the other side of the road. Harry Potter is looking around cautiously like a hawk although the street is as deserted as it could be.

"There you are," he calls as he sees her. She crosses the street. "Come on, quickly now," he says, "let's get off the street."

They step down the stairs to a public men's bathroom; the stench of urine makes her face scrunch up. "We're not taking the employees entrance, are we?" Hermione's told her all about that and she doesn't fancy a trip down the drain.

Unfortunately, Harry says, "We are. We can't take the visitors entrance because that can be tracked and I don't need anyone knowing we went into the Ministry in the middle of the night." They pass the urinals and step into the first cubicle. Without a moment's hesitation Harry steps into the toilet. He extends his hand to her.

"We're going down together?" she asks.

"Definitely. If anything goes wrong and Hermione learns I left you by yourself in a men's bathroom at midnight, she'll kill me."

"Fair enough." Narcissa takes his hand and in steps into the toilet.

"Hold on tight," Harry says. The confined space leaves her no other choice anyway. He pulls on a string dangling from the ceiling and they are being squeezed through what feels like an inhumanly tight tube. It's only seconds until they emerge in another toilet. They step out of it, water dripping from them.

"This is disgusting."

Harry chuckles, pointing his wand at her he says "Terego". Looking appreciatively at her dry clothes she does the same for him. The way out of the bathroom leads right into the Atrium. It's frighteningly quiet with only their footsteps echoing on the marble. There's not a single sign of a living soul ever setting foot here and if it weren't for the Auror at her side she'd be scared to death. "Lumos," they say simultaneously and, with their wand tips alight, they make their way across the Atrium, pass the fountain and into the lift area. Harry presses the down button on the center lift and, rattling, it rushes toward them. They step inside. Harry presses the button for level nine while she closes the golden gates. The lift sets into motion, downwards. "Are you gonna tell why we're here?" Harry asks.

"I lied when I said I didn't remember anything."

"I figured so," Harry says. "What was it you remembered?"

"Myself surrounded by prophecies and … holding one."

Harry looks at her with seriousness and empathy. She cannot hold his gaze and casts her eyes downwards. He takes her hand. "All will be well," he says. "It always is in the end."

"Department of Mysteries," a female voice sounds and the lift stops. They step out and into a dark hallway. It's completely black from the floor to the ceiling, except for the torches on the walls, the only source of light. They walk along the corridor till they reach the door at the far end. Behind it lies a circular room with eight doors; none has a handle, they all look the same.

"Which one do we take?" she asks Harry.

"I don't know." He chuckles at her bewildered look. "They rotate once you've opened one, so you never know which room lies behind which door."

She doesn't really have the nerves for this right now, but there's no way around it, it seems. "Let's try the one straight ahead first." She walks across the circular room and opens the door. "Oh Merlin!" She staggers back.

"Flagrate!" Harry says. A red cross appears on the door, Narcissa just opened.

"Quick thinking," Narcissa says.

"It was Hermione's idea when we first were here in our fifth year. That was the Brain room you just opened, I guess?"

"It would seem so. Why does the Ministry keep brains down here?"

"Unfortunately, Kingsley won't tell me. Let's try-"

"That one," she says, pointing toward the second door on the left. She has a good feeling about that one.

She pushes the door open. It reveals a room with a long isle; on each side are shelves over shelves. There aren't even torches here. It were pitch black were it not for hundreds of tiny lights on each side of the isle. It is indeed the Hall of Prophecies.

"Do you remember which isle it was?" Harry asks.

"Row 69, I think," she says as they walk down the isle, her pumps clicking on the black marble. It is the most surreal feeling. She knows she's been here before, _feels_ it and yet she barely remembers it. "You must have been scared when you came here at 15," she says.

"Yes, but for different reasons than you are, I guess," Harry says. "I was scared for Sirius. I had no idea there was a prophecy about Voldemort and I."They pass row 66, 67, 68. "Here it is. They're in alphabetical order."

She lets go of Harry's hand. She turns to the row on the right, scanning the name tags attached to the prophecies as she walks on. _Elizabeth Macier_ … _Rowan M_ _adison_ …. _Narcissa Malfoy_. Harry bumps into her; she's stopped so abruptly. The prophecy is tiny, emanates a cold, clear light. It's fascinating and terrifying. For a moment she considers leaving.

"It's better to know what you're up against, if you ask me," Harry says.

Slowly she reaches out her hand and takes the prophecy from its place on the shelve.


	9. Chapter 9

_She lets go off Harry's hand. She turns to the row on the right, scanning the name tags attached to the prophecies as she walks on._ Elizabeth Macier _…_ Rowan Madison _…._ Narcissa Malfoy _. Harry bumps into her, she's stopped so abruptly. It's tiny, emanates a cold, clear light. It's fascinating and terrifying. For a moment she considers leaving._

" _It's better to know what you're up against, if you ask me," Harry says._

 _Slowly she reaches out her hand and takes the prophecy from its place on the shelve …_

The mist in the glass ball begins to swirl until the face of a woman unknown to her becomes visible. With big ginger hair, huge eyes and a lilac sparkling tunic she is reminiscent of an ancestor of Sybill Trelawny. In a soft hushed voice she says,

 _A bond like no other will form between two souls._

 _Adversities it may face, it shall have the chance to persevere._

 _A child, second of the flower and conceived of love, will test the bond and reveal its true potential._

 _Prejudice, old and hidden, but alive, will be tested and the foundation of our world may sway._

The mist swirls once more and swallows the image of the Seer. Narcissa turns on the spot and leaves, putting the prophecy into the pocket of her coat.

"Hey you can't take that with you!" Harry calls after her. "That's property of the Ministry."

"That's about my life. Of course, I can take it with me," she says once he has caught up with her. "And I _will_. Just so you know, being Hermione's friend will not make me go easy on you, should you try to stop me."

Harry doesn't respond to that. They simply walk back the isle, into the circular room, out into the torch-lit corridor of the Department of Mysteries and into the lift. On the ride up Narcissa is lost in her own head, her brain running wild.

"That's why Lucius wanted another child, don't you think?" Harry asks.

"Yes." And was he right? Is it inevitable that they have another child?

"And," Harry continues, "are you pregnant?"

"You already asked me that during the interrogation."

"And you told me you weren't completely honest during that interrogation," Harry reminds her.

"The Atrium," the monotone female voice says. Harry steps out, but she stays behind. What on earth is she going to do, now?

"Narcissa?" Harry looks at her with concern. He offers his hand. "Let's go and have some tea at Grimmauld's."

She smiles. "I see what Hermione sees in you." He is beyond kind and easily flustered; he's blushing like a teenage boy.

They leave the Ministry and Apparate to Grimmauld's Place. The last time she was here, she was a child. Things went down the drain pretty quickly when Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor and, on top of that, befriended Half-Bloods, Muggleborns and Werewolves. Her parents forbade her to be in contact with him ever since; not that Sirius had wanted any contact. Either way, the place looks vastly different from what she remembers. The dark tapestry is gone, so are the heads of deceased house elves stooped upon lamps, the wooden floor no longer creaks when walked upon. The place looks a lot friendlier and welcoming. They go into the kitchen. Harry sets up a kettle to boil and puts a bunch of cookies on the table.

"Black tea?" he asks as he looks through the cupboards. "Or … peppermint? We must have cinnamon around here as well."

"Peppermint is fine."

Harry joins her at the table with two cups of steaming tea. She takes a zip. It's so hot it burns her tongue, but she doesn't mind. She feels so cold. They just sit there for a while, drinking tea and eating biscuits. Eventually she says, "I _am_ pregnant."

Harry's silent for a while, obviously struggling to find the right words. "So Lucius did … you know..."

"Yes, he did. It is not his, though."

Harry's face turns very serious and slightly angry.

"I did not cheat on Hermione, if that's what you're thinking," she says, her temper rising like a rocket.

He scoffs. "And how exactly did you fall pregnant, then?"

"I don't know!" This was a mistake. What on earth is he supposed to think? Of course, cheating would be the first thing on his mind. "I shouldn't have come here." She gets up. "Thank you for your assistance tonight. I'm gonna be going."

"Does Hermione know any of this?"

"No."

"You have to tell her."

"That is not for you to decide."

"How do you think this is going to play out? A prophecy, a pregnancy …. You cannot keep things like that from her!"

She doesn't answer him. She leaves and Apparates to their apartment. She almost throws her coat onto the floor when she remembers the prophecy in its pocket. Cursing under her breath she takes it off carefully. She has no idea how, or if she should talk to Hermione at all, but she knows that she needs to talk to her therapist. Ms. Lovegood is probably the only person, who will not judge her right now.

…

"Do you wanna tell me why you really came here today?"

Luna Lovegood looks at her with big expecting eyes. Narcissa asked for an emergency session and luckily, there was a free slot this morning. So far so good, only that until now she has spoken only about irrelevant things.

"As you know I had the Obliviation spell on my mind lifted. I remembered something."

"Oh, that's good, isn't it? You wanted to remember."

"If I had known what I'd remember, I might have chosen to remain ignorant."

"Ignorance doesn't get us anywhere."

Sometimes she hates her therapist. She is too right too often.

"There is a prophecy about me." She takes the little glass ball out of her purse. She's wrapped a white tissue around it, because every time her fingers touch it the damn thing is being activated. She takes the tissue off and the moment her fingertips touch the glass, the misty voice speaks. Ms. Lovegood watches and listens with mild curiosity. Once the prophecy falls quiet, Narcissa adds, "Also, I'm pregnant."

"I see," Luna says. "What about this is it that concerns you?"

And sometimes her therapist leaves her speechless. "What concerns me? Lucius thinks that this prophecy is about the both of us, that we need to conceive of another child which is why he … raped me. And now I am pregnant and you would think that this is the child the prophecy speaks of, but no, the timing doesn't add up. It can't be his."

"I would think so," Luna says.

"Come again?"

"I wouldn't have thought that the child the prophecy refers to is your ex-husband's."

Sometimes she loves her therapist. How she refers to Lucius as her ex-husband when technically they're still married is wonderful.

"But the prophecy speaks of the second child," Narcissa says. "It would be our second."

" _The second child of the flower_ , was it not? The flower is a Narcissus I assume and refers to you. The prophecy only speaks of _your_ second child."

"I never thought of it that way." Merlin, she has listened to that prophecy a hundred times. How did this escape her? "Still, this doesn't make sense. I'm never gonna be with a man again. It's almost as if this prophecy is too late."

"I don't think so. I think you're already pregnant with the child the prophecy is referring to," Luna says.

"Oh, you do? Then with whom, pray tell, am I having this child?"

"It seems obvious, doesn't it? A child _conceived of love_ … You're pregnant with Hermione's child," Luna says casually.

She takes a deep breath. "Ms. Lovegood, I don't mean to be rude, but Hermione and I are both women."

"Yes, I'm aware."

"Well … " Narcissa gestures helplessly with her hands. "It's impossible for us to reproduce."

"A lot of seemingly impossible things are possible with magic."

"What do you- Oh, Merlin." It hits her like a Hippogriff in full flight. The night of the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. The spell. She is carrying Hermione's child.

…

The day went by in a blur after her therapy appointment. First thing Narcissa did when she got home was to cry out of happiness and relief. Over and over again she listened to the prophecy, unable to believe its true meaning. She might not have thought in her wildest dreams that she would have another child at her age, but the fact that it's Hermione's changes her perspective on it a lot. What does worry her is the rest of the prophecy. How is their child and their relationship connected to the state of society and does she want it to? She's been thinking about it all the while she made dinner. The lock on the door clicks. Crookshanks purrs and sure enough a few seconds later Hermione walks into the kitchen, looking worst for wear.

"Hello, beautiful," Hermione says, hugging her. "How was your day?"

"Really good. I had a meeting with Ms. Lovegood. It was a bit on short notice, but I worked some things out. I actually wanna talk to you about something after dinner maybe." She's determined to tell her everything. It will enable them to connect more. She does the final touches on the dinner while Hermione sets the table.

"What did you make?" Hermione asks.

"Just some chicken and mashed potatoes. Nothing fancy."

"Nothing fancy smells amazing."

They embark on their dinner. "You look tired," Narcissa says. "How was your day?"

"Ugh, a mess. More Dementors escaped Azkaban and now it seems they are starting to attack people."

"I thought they were roaming the remote areas of the country?"

"They were, but yesterday some were sighted near Hogsmeade. I guess they need people to feed on at this point."

Narcissa shudders. "I hate these things. I wish there was a way to eliminate them."

"Tell me about it. That's not the only thing that happened, though," Hermione says. "Smith … he tried to escape Azkaban. He was aided by a guard."

Hermione watches her carefully, but these news don't hit her the way they would have only a couple of months ago. She's seen so much, there are few things she is afraid of, now. "So, do you think he's part of the Knights?"

"Yeah. The guard who aided him screamed something like 'The Kinghts will persevere.' or some bullshit."

"But he didn't succeed, did he?"

"No, other guards were able to stop them. Smith is in a high security cell, now and so is the guard who aided him."

"Good." She's not afraid of Smith, but she'll be damned if he doesn't have to serve the time he deserves.

"Oh, we forgot the drinks," Hermione says and is up and in the kitchen. "What do you want, babe?"

"Water, please."

Hermione comes back with a glass of water and that dark fizzy Muggle drink.

"Really?" Narcissa says. "Now that I got you off fast food you're gonna drink _that_? It's not good for you."

"But it makes my taste buds very happy." Hermione smirks. "So, what is it you wanted to tell me?"

"Where to start …." She is slightly nervous, now, after all. "Well, I remembered something."

"You mean something that was suppressed by the spell?"

"Yes. I remembered there was a prophecy about me."

Hermione's eyes grow wide.

"I went to retrieve it the other night with Harry's assistance," Narcissa continues.

"The other night? You took the prophecy illegally?"

"It's mine. I have every right to own it."

"Well, technically it's property of the Ministry until they give you an offical perm-"

"I don't care about your official permits and I really don't even need anyone to know about it at this point."

"And Harry helped you in this? I can't believe he would-"

"Hermione, please! Can you please not speak to me like a Ministry official, right now and just listen as my girlfriend?"

"I'm sorry. Well, what does the prophecy say?"

"It spoke of a bond that will form between me and someone else and a child."

Hermione's brows furrow. "A child? Draco?"

This is the part where Narcissa gets nervous. "No. It talked about my second child."

Hermione remains silent, her brows furrowing even more.

Narcissa takes a deep breath. "I am pregnant."

"Oh. So Lucius' plan succeeded."

Hermione is not the most emotional person for sure, but Narcissa did expect a very different reaction. "Well, actually, no, it didn't. It-"

Suddenly Hermione startles, as if she just realizes what is happening. "My God, Cissa, I'm so sorry." Hermione puts down her drink and hugs her. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't tell you right away because originally I didn't want to keep it. I had arranged everything with Andy. When she did the test to see how far along I was, it said that I was three months pregnant." Anxiously she watches the wheels in Hermione's head turn.

"It's not Lucius's child," Hermione states.

"No. Hermione, it is your child."

Hermione laughs. "What do you mean? How can it be?"

"I didn't understand either until I spoke to Ms. Lovegood, today. I assumed it was Lucius'. I thought maybe my memory got screwed what with everything that happened lately, but …. well the prophecy speaks of _my_ second child and that the child was conceived of love. That would be the case with us."

"It would but … Narcissa, how on earth am I supposed to have gotten you pregnant?"

Narcissa smiles. "Thank you," she says. The fact that Hermione seriously considers the option that it is their child, even though it seems impossible means so much to her.

"Thank you for what?"

"For not jumping to the conclusion that I cheated on you."

Hermione looks flabbergasted. "I know you would never cheat on me."

"Seems like you're the only one," Narcissa mumbles.

"Who thinks that?!"

"Harry, Andy … It's why I haven't been speaking to her."

"That's ridiculous. Though, I will admit that it's a bit _strange_. Are you sure it wasn't Lucius? Maybe you did get confused with the timing."

Narcissa goes to get the prophecy from her purse. "This is it," she says putting the prophecy on the table. "If this is your child, then the prophecy is as much about you as it is about me. Then you will be able to activate it."

"There's only your name on the name tag," Hermione says.

"I would assume that's because it was made before you were born. The Seer who made it looks like a predecessor of Sybil Trelawny."

"Oh dear. The woman haunts me, I guess."

"I take it divination wasn't your favourite subject?" Narcissa asks.

"No, I used to think it was complete rubbish until we found Harry's prophecy."

Narcissa takes the tissue off the prophecy. "Try it then."

Slowly Hermione reaches out. As her hands touch the crystal ball the mist starts swirling. For the first time during this conversation, Hermione actually looks anxious. A woman emerges from the mist. In a whisper the woman says the lines that Narcissa almost knows by heart, now. When the image of the Seer fades, Hermione continues to stare at the prophecy for a while. Narcissa watches her with anticipation. It's seldom that Hermione's quiet.

"How on earth is this possible?" Hermione whispers.

"I know it's crazy, but I think it happened when-"

"No," Hermione says. "This is impossible. I mean, I'm a woman. It's impossible."

"I can explain, I think."

"No," Hermione says and gets up.

Narcissa hears her rummaging in another room. "Hermione?" She follows her. She finds her in the bedroom, throwing a bunch of clothes into a bag. "What are you doing?"

"You're leaving." Hermione throws the bag at her.

"What?"

"I want you out of here when I come back," she says before she leaves the apartment, leaving Narcissa standing there shell-shocked.

…

The building looks incredibly beautiful, lavish with its white facade amid the small dark buildings made out of wood. Still, she has never felt more defeated when about to embark on some luxury. She did what Hermione asked of her and left. She does not want to live anywhere she is not wanted for whatever reason. What that reason might be in this case is beyond her.

"Mother, is that you?"

She whips around and sees her son in the company of Harry Potter. "Darling," she says, "what are you doing here so late?"

"We had a rough day at work, today," Draco says, "so we decided to go for dinner and drinks afterwards. What about you?"

"Oh, I was just going for an evening stroll. The weather is so beautiful."

He eyes the big bag standing at her feet. "Mum, are you ok?"

"I'll be heading home," Harry excuses himself and walks on.

"Mum?" Draco repeats, looking concerned.

"To be honest, I was going to rent a room here. Hermione kicked me out."

"What? The nerve … Oh, she better not cross me at work tomorrow."

"It's fine, Draco. She's just very upset and stressed, right now."

"And this is the adult way to deal with it? Well, come on then, you can stay at my flat."

"Oh no, I can't. I don't want to be an inconvenience. I'm sure you don't want to live with your mother again." She tries to laugh, but it comes out wrong.

"You have done so much for, please let me do this for you. I won't accept no for an answer," Draco says very seriously.

"You are just as stubborn as I am," she says, slightly annoyed but also touched.

…

She's been staying at Draco's apartment for a couple of days now. It's the first time she's been here and immediately she fell in love with it. It's feels wonderfully luxurious and homely at the same time. It's beautiful, but it's not her home. The fact that she had to turn to her _son_ for shelter weighs heavy on her. It's as if the roles are reversed and it shouldn't be that way, but since she still doesn't talk to Andy, there is nowhere to go but here or a hotel.

She has not heard from Hermione since she left, which is highly worrying. She was sure that Hermione would at least contact her after a couple of days to talk things out. Hermione's always been the rational one during their fights. Narcissa realizes that she'll have to make the first move here and she will, because this silence isn't bearable.

August is in full swing. She opens the window to ease the heat in here. It's even hotter outside, but the breeze that goes through the apartment is refreshing.

"Hey Mum, I brought dinner." Draco comes in, dangling a steaming bag in his hand.

"Not you as well," she says. "Is that common among your age group? You just don't cook anymore?"

"Don't come for me. This is not fast food, this is from the Chateau. Lobster and some steamed vegetables. I'd never eat that garbage that stupid little-"

" _Don't_ talk about her like that."

"She kicked you out! She hasn't come to apologize. Why are you defending her?"

Narcissa doesn't answer that. She gets two plates out and arranges their food on it. Not waiting for Draco to change out of his work attire, she digs right in; she's been starving. Draco joins her soon after.

"Wine, mother?"

"No, thank you."

"Damn, must be tough times if you turn down a glass of McKinnon's finest elven wine." After a moment he adds, "Are you gonna tell me what's going on?"

She considers it for a moment. It's not the kind of topic she'd like to discuss with her son, but then again he'll know anyway. She will start showing soon. "Please, don't freak out," she starts. "I am pregnant. And it's Hermione's".

"Ok," Draco says very slowly, deliberately. "Well, congratulations, first of all, but I'm gonna need some explaining."

She scoffs. "Understandable. Well, when I realized I was pregnant I assumed it was your father's."

"What? Does that mean he-"

"Yes, but I don't want to talk about it, please." He nods. "The timing didn't add up, though. When Legilimens Chang lifted the spell on my mind I remembered that there was a prophecy about me."

"Salazar. These things freak me out. What does it say?" Draco asks.

"It talks about a strong bond between me and another person. It also talks about a child, my second child that will be conceived of love."

"And Hermione is the only one you love."

"Yes," she says with a heavy feeling on her heart. "I know it seems crazy, but the other day I asked Hermione to try and activate the prophecy. As you know prophecies can only be activated by those whom they are about."

"And it worked," Draco says matter-of-fact. "She could set it into motion."

Narcissa nods. "And then she told me to leave."

"But why? The child is hers, she loves you … What's her problem?"

"I wouldn't know."

Draco shakes his head. "You need to talk to each other. You're having a child for Merlin's sake."

Narcissa knows he's right. And she will lock Hermione in her damn office and chuck Veritaserum down her throat, if she must.

* * *

Hello everyone,

I'm very sorry updates have been so rare lately. That was not the plan, but life has been incredibly stressful and exhausting and I'm afraid updates will continue to be irregular. I wanted to get at least one more chapter out before the year ends, so here it is. I hope you still enjoy this story and whish those who celebrate it Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!


	10. Chapter 10

It is an unbearably hot day in London. The air stands between the thousands of vehicles and buildings like a wall. Traffic is even more chaotic than usual. The heat leads to a lack of concentration which leads to a lot of beeping and shouting. Luckily, Draco's apartment lies just at the beginning of the magical part of the city, near the Ministry. Narcissa fans herself with a plan of the Tube as she walks toward the visitors' entrance of the Ministry, her mustard-coulored summer dress clinging to her back.

The telephone box is empty, a rare finding. With this weather, though, a lot of people take a day off work, preferring to stay at home or at a shadowy park if possible. Narcissa picks up the receiver and dials six-two-four-four-two. A mechanic female voice sounds inside the box. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Narcissa Malofy. I'm here to see Hermione Granger," she says. "If she'll see me that is," she adds, mumbling.

"Thank you," the mechanic voice says. A badge drops out of the slot for return coins. "Please, take the badge and attach it to your robes."

Narcissa takes the golden badge. She snickers reading the carving: Narcissa Malfoy, seeing Hermione Granger. She attaches the badge to the collar of her dress. The floor of the telephone box shakes and sets into motion. The streets of London fly out of view as the interior of the box descends and eventually hits the ground. "The Ministry whishes you a pleasant stay," the female voice says. Narcissa steps out into the Atrium. She heads across, pass the fountain that no longer consists of tortured Muggles. It had been rebuild after the war to resemble its predecessor. Together with another witch and a wizard, who's sporting a full set of robes despite the heat, she steps into one of the lifts and presses button eight. To her great dismay the lift goes upwards three stories until it stops. The witch gets out. The lift rattles, sets into motion and descends this time. After several stories, stopping at one to let a Ministry worker in, the lift comes to a stop at the eight level. "Level eight, Department of Magical Law Enforcement," the same mechanic female voice from before says. Narcissa gets out and walks down the corridor. Hermione's office is at the very end. She nocks two times.

"Come in."

Narcissa opens the door and finds Hermione at her desk, head buried in piles and piles of documents. She keeps scribbling away, not paying her any attention.

"Hello," Narcissa says. Hermoine's head snaps up, looking startled. "I hope I'm not intruding."

Hermione shakes her head. "Have a seat," she says, pointing towards an empty chair in front of the desk. "What can I do for you?"

"Really?" Narcissa says, somewhere between amused and offended. "I'm not here as a client, so drop the act."

"I'm sorry. Bad habit." Hermione puts her pen away and closes the folder she'd been working on.

They both remain silent for a while, looking at everything, but each other. Narcissa had hoped once she showed up here, Hermione would soften up, but apparently not. Eventually she says, "I don't understand why you wanted me to leave."

Hermione sighs, lowering her head. It infuriates Narcissa. She was thrown out after she had just learned of the prophecy, after she had just told her they were having a child for Merlin's sake and now Hermione won't even talk to her. "Do you not believe me, after all?" Narcissa asks.

"I do believe you," Hermione says. She sounds defeated.

A nervous tingling feeling spreads in her stomach as she slowly realizes what this must be about. "You don't want it." Hermione doesn't say anything to that. A lump forms in her throat, wanting to burst out, the longer Hermione stays silent. To be fair, she herself has not been overly excited at the prospect of a child even if it's Hermione's. She is not exactly at the point in her life where a child would fit. And anyway, she's already experienced becoming a parent, raising a child and had no intention to repeat it. She had been willing to cope with the situation for _their_ child, though. And so Hermione's reaction hurts. "I can still get rid of it," she says. "I had wanted to originally. I just thought, after realizing it was your's, you should have a say-"

"No," Hermione says. "I don't want you to get an abortion just for me. You'll resent me for it forever."

Narcissa scoffs. "Then how exactly is this supposed to work? I can basically choose between my partner or my child? Is that what you're telling me?"

"No, that's not what I'm telling you!" Hermione gets up abruptly, her chair falling over. "I … God, I don't know how I feel or … what to _think_ about all this. Hell, I don't even understand how this happened."

"The spell," Narcissa says. "It was the spell we used that night we came out."

"You think so?"

"Well, I don't _know_ for sure, but it's the only explanation I can think of, quite frankly." Hermione doesn't say anything to that, but Narcissa can basically see her brain working on full speed. "Let's look it up," Narcissa says.

"Look it up?"

"Yes, knowing you there's no point in talking to you until you understand what's going on. So let's go to Black Manor and look it up. If it really was the spell, the author be damned if there's not a mention of it."

"Fine."

"When do you have time?" Narcissa asks, looking at the huge amount of workload on Hermione's desk.

"I'll make time," the witch says and walks toward the door. "Let's go."

…

Narcissa shudders. It's not from the fact that she's back at her childhood home; it's the fact that they just Apparated and it was the first time they touched since their argument. Still, Black Manor does look at gruesome as ever, even the beautiful sunlight can't help its goth demeanor. Narcissa runs her finger among the snake ornament on the front door and it opens. Although she can't see it because Hermione is standing behind her, Narcissa is sure the witch is rolling her eyes. The moment they step inside, the voice of Druella sounds. "Narcissa, is that you?"

"Yes, mother."

"That's your mother?" Hermione whispers, looking at the life-size portrait.

"Of course, I am," Druella says haughtily. "And who's that?"

"That's Hermione. I told you about her, remember?"

Druella gasps. "You dare bring such filth into my house?"

"Keep it, mother. It's getting old," she says and walks on, up the stairs. "By the way," she calls out, "that filth is going to be the parent of your second grandchild."

"NARCISSA ORFELIA BLACK!"

"You just couldn't keep that to yourself, could you?" Hermione says, smirking.

Walking swiftly Narcissa continues towards the library. Hermione's trailing a bit behind, looking left and right. As Narcissa opens the door to the library it is Hermione's time to gasp. "Like what you see?" Narcissa asks in a mock-seducing tone. Hermione can only nod. Narcissa dives right into this forest of shelves, remembering very well where she has to go. She finds the book within a few minutes. She flips the pages quickly until she finds the page she is looking for. "There it is." They both start reading the passage in question, Hermione peeking over her shoulder.

 _Amorem Unificarum_

 _This spell will make a witch's genitalia resemble those of a male temporarily. To use the spell one must simply whip their wand in a circle and bring it down in a swish while saying the incantation. The Amorem Unificarum spell is a very ancient one. Its exact roots are unknown, but is said to have been developed during the age of Walpurgis. Its intention was by no means merely sexual pleasure. Rather it was supposed to enable two witches two conceive a child together, should a male partner not be available. This was most often the case in Wizarding families who placed tremendous importance on the purity of their linage. Rather than marrying a Muggle or a close relative families would use this spell to keep the lineage alive and pure via two witches. However, what the inventors of the spell could not foresee was that this only works if the witches in questions are soulmates. Today, this original intention of the spell is wildly forgotten and it is mostly used for sexual pleasure._

Narcissa reads the lines a second time and then a third as if she might have overseen something that would change the meaning, but the meaning remains fairly clear. Hermione has stepped away from her, not saying anything either. Narcissa puts the book back in its place and turns to look at Hermione. "Are you ok?" she asks, because Hermione just stares into space, looking rather pale.

"Yes. Are you?"

"Yes. So, that means we must be …"

"Soulmates," Hermione finishes the sentence. "This is crazy."

Narcissa can't argue with that. "What exactly does that even mean, soulmates?"

"I don't know," Hermione says, "but I know someone who knows everything about anything."

…

They've only been here for a hot minute, but the staring and whispering behind their back is already grinding Narcissa's gears. "Remind me again why you brought us here," she says to Hermione as they walk across the Hogwarts grounds.

"Because I don't know anyone who has a more profound knowledge about all areas of magic than Dumbledore," Hermione says.

"I'm sure we would have found a book on soulmates, had we just looked."

"Probably," Hermione says, opening the grand doors to the Entrance Hall, "but this will be lot quicker and probably more enlightening."

They walk quickly upstairs, squeaking as one of the stairs moves at random. "Damn it," Hermione curses, clinging onto the railing. "I had forgotten they change directions." After a few more flights of stairs they reach the gargoyle that guards the office of the current Headmastermistress. "I don't know the password," Hermione says.

"Lovely, what do we do, now?"

"Mh, we could try to find a teacher and-"

The gargoyle moves aside before Hermione can finish the sentence. "Seems like someone is expecting us," Narcissa says and steps onto the stairs, followed by Hermione. The stairs carry them up in circles until they reach the door of the Headmistress' office. Narcissa nocks.

"Come in."

When they enter they find Minverva McGonagall sitting behind her desk.

"Narcissa Malfoy. What a sight for sore eyes," the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black says. He gets up from the chair in his little frame and bows.

"As charming as ever. Thank you, Phineas," Narcissa tells her ancestor.

"Yes, Phineas," McGonagall says, "thank you very much for that enlightening comment." She looks just as stern and chronically annoyed as Narcissa remembers her from her school days. "Please have a seat, ladies. Tea?"

"No, thank you," Hermione and she say simultaneously.

"Right, no beating around the bush, I see. What has brought you here, today?"

"We'd like to talk to Professor Dumbledore," Hermione says.

"Oh, well there he is," McGonagall says, pointing toward a picture on the left wall. "Albus?" The image of Albus Dumbledore is sleeping, snoring lightly. McGonagall steps toward the portrait. "Albus!" She knocks rapidly on the picture frame and Dumbledore startles.

"Yes, Minerva? What is so important that it is worth interrupting my midday slumber?" he asks.

"You have visitors," McGonagall says. "Hermione Granger and Narcissa Malfoy wish to speak to you. I'll leave you three alone for a while."

Narcissa is sure she saw Dumbledore's eyes twinkle for a second at the mention of their names.

"Good day to you," Dumbledore says once McGonagall has left. "It's wonderful to see two of my favourite students again."

"Though you probably did not expect to see us together," Hermione says.

"Actually, Ms. Granger, Minerva reads the Daily Prophet to me every day, so I am very well up to speed."

"In that case," Narcissa says, "I'd like to cut right to the chase."

"Please do so, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Speaking in broader terms," she starts, "we are here because of a prophecy that I've discovered recently and that was made about me and, as it now turns out, also about Hermione. The prophecy says-"

"I know what the Prophecy says," Dumbledore says.

"What? How do you know?" Hermione asks.

"As it so happens the prophecy was made to me by Roseanna Trewlany in her very late years as she visited her granddaughter here at Hogwarts."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Narcissa asks.

"I do not find it wise to speed the course of the world. We learn of things when we are supposed to. Though I must say that I expected you to contact me sooner about the issue."

"Lucius obliviated me. I did not remember anything about the prophecy until about a week ago."

"I'm very sorry," Dumbledore says. "I did not know. What makes you think that the prophecy also applies to Ms. Granger?"

"Well, I am in fact pregnant with my second child. The prophecy, as you apparently know, speaks of a child conceived of love. That would only be the case with Hermione and the timing also fits. Either way, she is able to activate the prophecy."

"Then it is clear," Dumbledore says. "Prophecies can only be activated by those about whom they are made. There is no doubt about that. Forgive my bluntness, but I assume you used the Amorem Unificarum spell?"

"You've heard of it?" Narcissa asks.

"Certainly. I've always been highly interested in ancient magic."

Hermione gives her the I told you so-look. "Professor," Hermione says, "from what we understand the fact that we were able to conceive through the spell means that Narcissa and I are soulmates."

"That is correct, Ms. Granger."

"There is no doubt about it?" Narcissa asks.

"None at all," Dumbledore says.

"Professor, what we were wondering," Hermione says, "is … what exactly does it mean to be soulmates?"

"Well, in laymen's terms it means that you are destined for each other. There is and will not be a person that is better suited for you as a partner."

"So we have no choice, but to be with each other," Hermione states. It makes Narcissa's heart drop. It's sounds as though Hermione whishes she could be with someone else.

"Oh no, not at all, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore corrects her. "You see, soulmates have the perfect set up to form a bond like no other. However, it is completely up to you what you make of that set up. It is very well possible that two soulmates are not able – or willing – to create the bond."

Hermione seems relieved and if she's being honest that does sound a lot more appealing. "Assuming we would not be willing to create the bond," Narcissa says, "what would the consequences be?"

Dumbledore chuckles. "It does not make sense to dwell on that question. The bond is created once the union has been consummated."

"Excuse me?" both of them exclaim simultaneously.

"Yes, only if the union is consummated does the bond come into full effect."

Narcissa looks at Hermione and is sure the woman is thinking about the same lines. All this time …

"However," Dumbledore continues, "you could still decide not to uphold the bond you've created. Of course, that would leave you with a lot of heart ache and sorrow. Mrs. Malfoy, allow me also to say this: the fact that your bond is already created is also of importance for your legal status."

"How so?" she asks.

"From what I understand you have been seeking a divorce, but have been unable to go through with it because your husband is missing?"

She nods.

"Well, an existing soulbond is so strong that any other relationship will not compare. Your true partner at heart will always be your soulmate. Therefore, you are not allowed to enter marriage with any other person as you would be unable to fulfill your vow. This also means that an existing marriage with a person other than your soulmate becomes invalid."

A broad smile spreads on her face. "Thank you. I would have never known." Hermione takes her hand and squeezes it. She has not felt so excited in a very long time. It is the most wonderful feeling.

The door opens and Minerva McGonagall is back. "It seems the answers you were seeking are to your liking," the Headmistress says, looking at her.

Both, she and Hermione, simply smile and nod.

McGonagall looks forth and back between the two of them, her usual expression of annoyance growing even stronger. "You don't want to enlighten me as to what is going, I see. Fine."

"I think," Dumbledore says, "you will find out soon enough, Minerva. I would advise you to call a meeting of the Order."

Minverva gasps. "It is true, then, what we have been suspecting? The Death Eaters have reunited?"

"Kingsley doesn't want people to know," Hermione says, "but yes, they have reunited."

"He doesn't want … Merlin, he has some nerve. I guess, the position as Minister does change people," Minerva says. "Well, let's schedule a meeting and then see."

"I'll let you know the details," Hermione says and they leave.

"It sounds like the meeting might be rocky," Narcissa says. "Kingsley is part of the Order as well after all."

"I fear you're right and we really don't need that," Hermione says.

…

They go home together that day. They did not talk about it; it was a given. It is a peculiar dynamic they have sometimes. Occasionally one of them will question everything, but once the anger, sorrow and tension deflated like a hot balloon it is as though nothing ever happend.

"I need a good cup of tea, now," Hermione says after taking off her shoes and throwing her bag exceptionally carelessly into the corner. "How about you?"

"Definitely. Anything herbal for me." Narcissa makes herself comfortable on the coach, closing her eyes. She could fall asleep on the spot; she's so tired. "Don't you need to get back to work?"

"Well, I can't work until late in the evening anymore," Hermione says, carrying two cups of tea, "Harry has honestly started checking up on me, can you believe it? He thinks I'm working too much."

"I reckon he's right," Narcissa says.

"Besides, there are more important things at the moment." Hermione gets that solemn look whenever she retreads into herself, thinking.

"How do you feel about today?" Narcissa asks.

"Good, actually."

"Really? I didn't think you'd be alright with the idea of having a soulmate. It interferes with you sense of independence, doesn't it?"

Hermione takes a long zip of her tea. "I'll admit that's how I felt right after I had read the passage about the spell. It does feel good to know that we're not chained to this relationship, doesn't it?"

"Yes. I've felt that way before. I don't want to feel it with you." Narcissa grows a bit melancholic. To think for how long they played cat and mouse when the bond was already created … Or maybe that is exactly why they played games for so long. Right from the start they had been drawn to each other inexplicably strong and, at times, it had been scary. „It explains a lot, doesn't it? Why I felt so safe with you when we were only strangers really. How you just seemed to know what I needed that first night."

Hermione nods slowly, seemingly deep in thought. "You know, I never truly understood why I helped you, took you _home_. I can't stand to see people suffer, friend or foe, but it was more than that. I felt the need to protect you. I felt responsible."

The confession melts Narcissa inside. "How did you manage to be so cold to be then?"

The look on Hermione's face grows solemn. "It wasn't easy, I can tell you that, but I was afraid. My feelings for you scared me. I wasn't supposed to fall for … well, someone like you. But I just couldn't stay away from you. So I decided to keep our relationship purely sexual – and brutally so. I thought that would satisfy my feelings and keep them at bay at the same time."

She smiles to herself at the thought of Hermione going through the same emotional turmoil she went through. "That didn't quite work out, did it, Ms. Know-it-all?" She chuckles, but Hermione turns her head, breathing irregularly. "Hermione? Are you … crying?" She has never seen her cry before.

"I'm so sorry, Narcissa." Now, the tears are obvious by the tone of her voice. "I treated you so horribly and I feel so guilty."

"It's alright, love."

"No it's not! How can you say that? How can you just forgive me?"

"For the same reason you forgave me. I love you and I understand. I understand where you came from. We were on opposing sides of a war. I watched my son bully you, I watched my sister torture you and did nothing. It's understandable you didn't _want_ to fall for me. Yet you did, you forgave me and I forgive you."

"Even for these past days? It wasn't ok to just kick you out, but I felt so overwhelmed."

Narcissa nods. "You're young and I think sometimes I forget just how young with how strong and confident you are. You probably haven't thought about being a mother for several more years, if at all."

"Basically. Still, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Narcissa says. "And I meant what I said. I can still get an abortion. I will always choose you over anything. And I didn't exactly plan to become a mother again either."

"I don't think we should rush this. Let's take our time to talk about it and see what would be best for us."

Narcissa nods without saying any more. She has no idea what they're going to do, but the fact that Hermione at least considers having this child makes it all hurt a little less.

* * *

Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? I hope some of you are still interested in the Story. This break was defenitely not intentional. The main reason for it was that I was getting closer and closer to finishing it, but I just couldn't come up with the actual ending. I decided to stop publishing chapters as long as I was unsure about the ending because I really didn't want to leave another story unfinished. I've worked out the ending, now and I'm actually really excited about continuing this story. I only need to write two more chapters. The rest is just editing. I'm not going to make any promises about updates as I've started an original story that I need to focus on, but you're defenitely going to have to wait another six months.


	11. Chapter 11

Today, she got up hours before the sun rose. She had to write a letter, not just any letter, but a letter to the Minister asking for an appointment to discuss the status of her marriage and that just couldn't wait a few more hours. Of course, it is most uncommon to want to speak to the Minister himself about such issues, in fact, Hermione would be the one responsible. However, given their romantic relationship, they thought it might spark suspicion and criticism. To her surprise Kingsley gave her an appointment immediately without any questions; he's probably intrigued.

The journey to the Ministry was quick because she is so wrapped up in her feelings today that everything else fades in comparison. Streets, people, cars and brooms alike just rush past quickly like the euphoria that rushes through her veins. Just a few more moments and, if everything goes well, she will no longer Mrs. Malfoy.

As she approaches Shaklebolt's office her face lights up. To her surprise, Hermione is awaiting her. "Good morning, beautiful," she says.

"Good morning." Hermione's smile equals her own and Narcissa could swear there's a sparkle in her eyes.

"I didn't know you were coming," Narcissa says.

"I thought it might be useful if I offer myself up as evidence. And of course," Hermione says, a smug smile appearing on her face as she pulls out a bottle of elven wine from her purse, "I wanted to celebrate that you're a free woman again – on paper, that is." Hermione narrows her eyes in a jokingly threatening manner. "Did you know they make non-alcoholic elven wine?"

"I did not. Very thoughtful."

The door to the Minister's office opens and Shaklebolt himself greets her. "Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy. Hermione – what a surprise."

"I hope you don't mind my presence, Kingsley," Hermione says as they walk inside.

"Not at all, not all. Please, have seat."

They sit down at a table set with cups and a tea can.

"Thank you for seeing me on such notice, Minister," Narcissa says.

"Well, I have to say I was rather intrigued by your request to discuss the legal status of your marriage, now, given that your husband is still aloof, shall we say." Shaklebolt flicks his wand and a porcelain cup settles in front of each of them, the can magically filling it with steaming tea. "And then," Shaklebolt continues, "a message from Hermione here reaches me mere seconds later, telling me she would be unable to see the divorce through because of 'recent developments' Well, naturally I was curious. So, what has been going on?"

"Where to begin …" Narcissa takes a sip of tea. The clinging of porcelain the only sound as she puts the cup back down. "It's best not to beat around the bush, I guess, so to put it quite simply, I recently learned that I am soulbound to another and that such a soulbond makes an existing marriage invalid. Is that correct?"

"That … That would be correct, yes. _Soulbound_ … What a rare …" The Minister is struggling to respond. His eyes dart back and forth between her and Hermione as he figures out the situation.

"Yes, Kingsley. She's soulbound to me," Hermione says.

"Merlin's beard." Shaklebolth tears at his tie as though it has suddenly become too tight. "That is … most unusual that is. And how did you figure, might I ask?"

"I am pregnant," Narcissa says. "We have conceived of a child together."

"Amorem Unificarum," the Minister whispers.

"Yes. As far as we are aware this could only happen because we are-"

"Soulmates," Shaklebolt breathes; his eyes wide. "Curious, most curious …"

"So, can you go through with my divorce?" Narcissa asks.

Kingsley startles, as if she has just ripped him from a trance. "Well, yes certainly. Forgive me, I don't doubt you two, but I need to verify whether you are soulmates, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. How do you do that?" Hermione asks.

"Quite simply with a spell. If you would rise and face each other."

They do so and Shaklebolt takes out his wand, starting a complicated looking pattern of wand movements. Suddenly, Narcissa feels hot and sweaty. Then, a dark red ball emerges from her chest as does from Hermione's. The two balls hover for a while until, slowly, they move towards each other and merge, forming a new gleaming golden ball. "Well, that settles it," Shaklebolt says. He stops the spell and looks almost disappointed, as though he had hoped they might be wrong. "I'll send you the papers that confirm the divorce via owl."

"That's it?" Narcissa asks. "I don't have to sign anything?"

"No. Since the marriage is anulled automatically in such a case, whether both parties agree or not, there is no need for a signature."

"Excellent," Hermione says, taking Narcissa's hand in her own, ready to leave.

"Before you go," Shaklebolt says, "you have not told anybody about _this_ , have you?"

They shake their heads.

"Good, very good."

"Why, Minister? Surely no one would be concerned with our most private business?", Narcissa asks.

"No, surely not. It is of course your personal decision whether you tell people or not. It's just … well, a soulbond is very rare and … well, between the two of you … People are peculiar about these things, you know."

"Certainly, Minister", Hermione says. "If you will excuse us now, we have something to celebrate." As soon as they are out of earshot Hermione says, "I knew it. I knew he'd freak out."

"Not surprising," Narcissa says. They take the lift down to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "He doesn't want any disturbance among people at the moment. I wonder if he already suspects some form of connection to my abduction." They had previously decided to keep the existence of the prophecy from Shaklebolt. With how cautious and scared he is at the moment, who knows what he might do, if he knew. Either way, they need to work out what exactly that prophecy means, before they possibly tell the public.

"Let's hope he doesn't," Hermione says. The minute she has slammed shut her office door, she pops a bottle. Getting two glasses out of her purse as well, she pours them each a glass. Hermione raises her glass. "Congratulations, Ms. Black."

Narcissa's heart skips a beat at the sound of her maiden name. "Thank you, dear." She, too takes a sip while pulling Hermione close by the small of her back. She nibbles on Hermione's lip gently before kissing her deeply. They stumble backwards until her back collides with the desk. Hermione hoists her up and with a flick of her hand she locks the door.

…

Narcissa's awfully tired and not at all in the mood for the meeting of the Order that is about to happen. Hermione had contacted everyone the very same day they spoke to Dumbledore. She isn't sure whom "everyone" includes, but she will see shortly. Though, there is some irony in the fact that it includes her, the former wife of a Death Eater. "And you are sure I should come along? Don't you think it wise to talk to them on your own first?" she asks Hermione.

"No way. You have suffered under the Death Eaters these past months, you have escaped them and told the Aurors everything. If it weren't for you, we still wouldn't have any clue as to what is going on. You should be there."

Narcissa's not entirely comfortable with it, but she knows there's no use in arguing. They leave the apartment Apparating straight to Grimmauld Place. Harry's lifted the protective enchantments on the place for five minutes, so they can Apparate there. They don't want anyone to get suspicious, so they thought it best not to show up on Harry's doorstep all together. Within seconds there are several _pops_ and the living room fills with people.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," Harry says. "And help yourself to tea and biscuits."

Everyone is trying to find a seat which isn't that easy. Narcissa is amazed by the amount of people that show up on rather short notice. Aside from Harry and Hermione, of course, there is the entire Weasly family, Minerva McGonagall, Aberforth Dumbledore, Fleur, Rubeus Hagrid and Hestia Jones. The Weaslys all gather on the two large sofas, with Ginny sitting next to Harry and Fleur sitting next to Bill. Hagrid alone takes up the third, slightly smaller sofa. People break into chatter until every one is settled, has some tea and something to eat. Hermione grabs her by the hand and pulls her down to sit next to her. Narcissa feels nervous. Not only does she barely know these people, but they have a shared history. They are a unity and she is intruding. She can see it especially in the eyes of those who don't know her at all. Aberforth Dumbledore is staring at her with a piercing gaze that would stab her were it solid. Hagrid keeps on looking from her to Hermione, shaking his head, and Hestia Jones is looking down on her with a look Druella would be proud of.

"Thank you, everyone," Hermione says, "for showing up so numerous on such short notice."

Dumbledore scoff. "So numerous … There's barely half of us left."

The mood grows darker immediately.

"True, of course," Harry says. "But everyone who's still alive as shown up without asking questions after all these years. That's amazing. I think that's what Hermione's saying."

Hermione nods. "Thank you, Harry."

"What's she doing here?" Dumbledore asks, pointing at Narcissa. Some nod in agreement, some incline their head curiously.

"She's here," Hermione says, "because she's essential to what's happening and because she can help us."

"Help us?" Hagrid says. "Her folks wanna destroy us, they did!"

"If by 'my folks' you are referring to Death Eaters, Mr. Hagrid," Narcissa says, "then you are mistaken. I do not associate with these people anymore."

"And how do we know that's true?" Dumbledore asks.

Narcissa sighs. "I told you. I shouldn't have come," she says to Hermione.

"Nonesense", her girlfriend says. "As you all know Narcissa was kidnapped by the Death Eaters and yes, she _was_ kidnapped …" Hermione starts to explain what happened these past months, why they can trust Narcissa; Harry chimes in occasionally. Narcissa doesn't really listen in an attempt to not get upset. She's so tired of people doubting her, having to explain herself over and over again. When Hermione's finished, everyone's silent and visibly uncomfortable.

"The thing is," Hestia Jones says, "where is the proof? How do we know this is not just a story she made up to get to us?"

"You righteous bitch," Narcissa snaps, earning a few gasps. She twists her left arm, displaying the inside of her underarm to the other woman so her scars are clearly visible. "Does _this_ look like something I made up?"

"Mon Dieu!" Fleur exclaims. "C'est horrible! Who did zis ? «

"My own sister," Narcissa says. Her stomach twists and her breath comes in short. The mere thought of her makes her feel sick and scared.

"Might have done it 'erself, she might," Hagrid mutters.

"Stop it!"

Narcissa's eyes snap up in surprise. It was Ginerva who said that. They hold each other's gaze as the red-head adds, "No one would do that to themselves. Besides, Hermione trusts her, so should we.'

"Thank you, Ginerva," Narcissa says.

"Call me Ginny," the young woman says. Her tone is still hostile. Narcissa can almost see her inner conflict, but she appreciates the gesture anyway.

Harry smiles at his wife like a teenage boy and Hermione squeezes her hand a little tighter, without a doubt relieved that all of the Weaslys seem to be coming around.

"Now, if anyone else has a problem with Narcissa's presence then they can leave right now," Hermione says, "because this will not happen without her." When no one says anything Hermione continues. "So, of course you have all been keeping up with the recent developments and the new rise of the Death Eaters or the Knights of Walpurgis as they call themselves now. We asked you to come here today, because we want to share more information with you and because we want to act."

"You want to fight them again, don't you? Like we used to?" Aberforth asks.

"Yes," Hermione says. "Or at least we want to discuss our options."

"Kingsley," Harry says, "does not want the public to know the Death Eaters are planning to disrupt our peace, again. Which is why as far as the public is concerned, Narcissa's abduction was the deed of a jealous husband. Thanks to Narcissa's testimony we now know that Lucius doesn't operate alone, that he wants for the Death Eaters to rule once more. However, there's more to it."

"We know," Hermione says, "that Lucius and all the Death Eaters act based upon a Prophecy."

Hermione looks at her pointedly and Narcissa figures it is her turn. She says, "Lucius must have known about it for decades. I did, too, at one point, but Lucius obliviated me. I lost all memory of a Prophecy until recently when Legilimens Cho lifted the spell on my mind." She takes the small crystal ball out of her purse. "I guess it's easiest, if you just hear for yourselves." She takes the protective cloth off and touches the crystal ball. The white mist swirls and the all too familiar words, that she knows by heart now, sound. Though it feels like an eternity, it's only seconds until the words subside and the mist turn immobile once again.

"Blimey, these things always creep me out," Ronald says.

"So, if I understand the Prophecy correctly," Arthur Weasly says, "your husband abducted you because he wanted to conceive another child because he thinks that will somehow enable you to … rule society?"

"That is what he believes," Narcissa says, "but he is wrong. We know that the Prophecy refers not to him, but Hermione and myself."

"How did you figure that?" Ronald asks. "I mean, you're both … women."

"Well spotted, Ronald, once again," Hermione says. "As it so happens I am able to activate the Prophecy."

"Then there is no doubt," Aberforth says.

"But how are you supposed to conceive a child?" Ginny asks.

"We already have," Hermione says. "Narcissa's pregnant."

They react neither with surprise nor anger, rather they seem paralyzed.

"But Hermione," Harry starts.

" _Don't_ , Harry. I already know you think Narcissa cheated on me."

"Well, how else is she supposed to be pregnant? This damn Prophecy doesn't make any sense!"

"He's kinda right," Ronald says.

Narcissa gets up. "Where's your potion stock?"

"Eh … in kitchen in the cupboard above the sink," Ginny says. "Why do you ask?"

Narcissa doesn't respond, but goes into the kitchen, straight toward the mahogany cupboard above the sink and opens it. It's packed to the brim with potion bottles, but they're all labeled and so she quickly finds what she is looking for. A bottle filled with clear, scentless liquid in hand she joins the others again.

"What's that? What are you doing?" Hermione asks.

"I'm taking Veritaserum."

"No! Don't let them make you do that!"

"They'll never fully trust my word. And you know what's worst?" Narcissa asks them all. "I can't even really blame you. I wouldn't trust myself either." She pops the cork.

"You don't know what that might do to the baby!" Hermione says.

"It won't hurt the child," she says.

"It's true," Molly says. "Veritaserum is harmless in that sense."

Narcissa puts the bottle to her lips and downs the content. The effect is immediate. Her muscles go limp, her mind feels at ease. She has never taken this potion before. She'd thought she'd feel drowsy, but she feels as clear-headed as she ever has. Everything seems sharper than usual. "Is that … a bug in your beard?" she asks Aberforth. "You might wanna" – she makes cutting motions with her hand - "trim it just a little bit." Aberforth turns scarlet. Hermione and Ginny burst out laughing. Fleur whispers, "She iz not wrong."

"Right, to get to more pressing issues than my beard," Aberforth says, "were you truly abducted by Lucius and held against your will?"

"Yes."

"Do you share any beliefs the Death Eaters stand for?"

"Nooo, for fucks sake. I'm not stupid."

Hermione snickers.

"You really are pregnant with Hermione's child?" Molly asks.

"Yes. The timing fits and I never cheated on her. Most certainly not with a man." She shudders. "Gross."

Hermione laughs and kisses her cheek. "I wanna take that stuff, too, sometime. Seems like a good time."

"Does anyone have any other questions?" Aberforth asks. They all shake their head. "Good, I'm gonna get the Antidote before she insults me some more."

Aberforth comes back with the Antidote, which she downs immediately.

"I 'ope I am not too forward," Fleur says, "but 'auw did you conceive? It iz rather fascinating, no?"

"Via a spell," Hermione says, "called Amorem Unificarum."

"It's a very old spell that was created for two witches to be able to conceive of a child together," Narcissa says.

"I've never heard of that happening," Ginny says. "Has it been used a lot?"

"That brings us to the next thing we wanted to tell you," Hermione says. "You've probably never heard of this happening because the spell only works if the witches who use it are soulmates."

Molly gasps. "Merlin!" Arthur says. Aberforth shakes his head. "Impossible."

"Geez, guys, come on. I mean soulmates are rare, I guess," Ron says, "but not unheard of."

"Actually, it is," Arthur says. After a moment's hesitation he adds, "At least it's unheard of between well, a Purbeblood and a Muggleborn."

"What are you saying?" Harry asks. "People believe only two Purbloods or two Muggleborns can be soulmates? Or two Half-Bloods? What rubbish."

"It's not rubbish," Arthur says. "People believe that two Purebloods – and only two Purebloods – can be soulmates. And for good reasons because there has never been any other known case."

"Until now," Minerva says gravely. "Does anybody besides us know?"

"Shaklebolt knows and Albus Dumbledore if you count his portrait," Narcissa says.

"We need to consider carefully how we proceed," Minerva says. "I assume you, Narcissa, are aware of the implications?"

"Of course, I am." It has been at the back of her mind all this time, but she decided to think about the broader consequences later because she's been so occupied with what it means for them as a couple and quite frankly, because she's been scared.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asks.

"You, better than anyone, know of the prejudice that used to dominate our society," Narcissa says. "Only recently you told me you still have to face it to this day. How do you think people will take it when they learn that a Muggleborn and a Pureblood have created a soulbond?"

"And you're having a child," Arthur says. "And there's a Prophecy. I fear it would cause quite the uproar."

"Then we will deal with it," Hermione says. "We cannot keep a child secret and quite frankly I don't want to anyway, so we might as well face it head on."

"That's the spirit," Minerva says. "You will certainly have our support and protection."

"Maybe there is even a way to use this in our favour," Harry says. "I mean if the both of you aren't perfect example to proof all this prejudice wrong, I don't who is."

"I think you might be onto something, mate," Ronald says and the others nod in agreement.

An uneasy feeling spreads in Narcissa's stomach. Is this it? Is this what the prophecy is referring to and if it is, she doesn't like in the slightest.

"There's only one problem," Hermione says. "What are we gonna do about Kingsley? He will certainly not want us go public with this. He's already made that clear. Hell, he still doesn't want to inform the public about the Death Eaters."

"Oh, to the devil with Kingsley!" Minerva says. "Ignorance and secrecy will only lead to disaster. We've seen how that played out the last time. We cannot allow people to be so unprepared again. We'll have to move without Kingsley's approval, if necessary."

"Narcissa and I can do an interview," Hermione suggests. "People will probably take it better, if we come forward ourselves."

"That's a good idea. I know some people at the Prophet we can trust," Minerva says. "I'll give you their contact details." She gets up and goes to take her coat from the hanger. "If that's all, I'll excuse myself. You can't leave these students alone for too long, l can tell you that."

"Just one more thing," Harry says. "Wouldn't it be handy if we used the DA coins, again, just in case we need to communicate quickly?"

"What are those coins?" Narcissa asks.

"I invented them for our secret meetings in our fifth year," Hermione says. "Everyone had one and you could send messages through them that would appear on the coin. Later, we used them in the Order as well. We could indeed reuse them."

"Oh no, you know I always lost the damn thing," Ronald says.

"Well, Mr. Weasly," Minerva says, "I'm afraid you'll have to conduct yourself as an adult once and take care of it."

"Or just wear around your neck on a nice little necklace, Won-Won," Ginny teases.

"Oh shove it," Ron says.

"You'll manage, Ron. Look," Hermione tells her, "we all still have our coin. I'll give you yours as soon as we get home."

Minerva leaves as does Hestia Jones. The others stay a little bit longer. The mood lightens, the tea pots and plates of biscuits empty quickly. Narcissa relaxes more and more among these people she used to call enemies. The sense of unity that is present here is remarkable and inspiring, comforting even. It's something that the Death Eaters lost a long time ago. There was no true sense of community. There only was unity forced by fear and infected with mistrust.

That night Narcissa lies awake for hours and watches Hermione on the other side of the bed, blanket wrapped around her like an impenetrable cocoon.


	12. Chapter 12

Lightning flashes through the dark grey sky and thunder sounds dangerously close by. The flat shakes or so it seems. The weather has turned completely these past days. More than once Narcissa was ripped from sleep by the raging storm when it had taken her hours to fall asleep in the first place. She pulls the thick black cardigan she wears over her emerald dress tighter and puts her hands around the steaming hot cup of tea. The weather outside these four walls reflects the mood inside. Hermione and she have gone back to playing cat and mouse. On the one hand, the knowledge of their soulbond has brought them even closer together. It is an inexplicable connection. In a way it validates what Narcissa has felt for a very long time. They're meant to be. Not that she needed any other proof than her feelings, but sometimes she gets tired of all the doubts coming at them from all sides. On the other hand, there are these moments of inexplicable distance. They don't fight, they keep on talking to each other, but there's a barrier between them consisting of the prophecy and the child that keeps on growing inside her. The seeming inevitability of their future is weighing them down. She grabs her purse, about to head for Diagon Ally to do some groceries. They'll have dinner at Grimmauld's Place, tonight, again. Recently these dinners have taken place too often for her liking, but she cannot bring herself to tell Hermione so. Her girlfriend, as well as everyone else, seem to take great comfort in them. In an effort to feel more included in this group of people she asked Molly to help prepare the food, but was unsuccessful. Very reluctantly Molly allowed her to do the groceries, but was adamant that she'll do the cooking herself. Just as she is about to leave there's a loud noise in the kitchen. An owl is hammering its beak against the window pane, looking more like a woodpecker than an owl. She opens the window to let it in. The bird is tiny with dark brown feathers and eyes that seem too large for its head. It's not an owl she recognizes. She unfastens the letter from the animal's leg. As she looks at the sender's address her heart skips a beat. It's from St. Mungo's. Carelessly she rips it open and reads,

 _Dear Ms. Black,_

 _we'd like to inform you that your son, Draco Malfoy, has been admitted to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries this morning. Further information will be granted, should you wish to visit our hospital personally._

 _With kind regards,_

 _Gertrud Hallstein_

 _A and E department_

Narcissa shoves the letter into her purse, slams the door shut and hurries down the flight of stairs. Rain pours down on her, matting her hair, as she steps out of the house. Standing on the side of the street, she holds out her wand arm. It takes all of two seconds and the purple triple-decker stops right at her feet. She hates taking the bus, but the hospital is located so hideously central that it's impossible to fly or Apparate there. "St. Mungo's Hospital," she says and throws a couple of galleons at Stanley Shunpike.

"Good day to you, too," the boy says.

The bus rushes on before she can find a seat; she almost falls. Slowly, one hand on the wall of the bus, she makes her way to an empty seat in the middle. While the bus drives she looks at the short letter again. She wonders what could have happened to Draco. Did something go wrong during a work mission? Probably. And how on earth do they know she's returned to her maiden name? When she has put the letter back into her purse, she notices that the other passengers are watching her. Some are polite enough to look away once they realize that she has noticed. Some, though, stare at her unashamed. They're scrutinizing her. Merlin, you'd think that the excitement about her abduction would have died by now. The bus stops at the Leaky Cauldron. Several people get off, among them a middle-aged witch with long sleek black hair and a crooked back. As she walks past Narcissa, she spits, "Slut!" Narcissa is too stunned to say anything before the bus takes off again. Who was that woman and what was she insulting her for? Her outfit is really anything but slutty, today.

"St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Ma- oh you know the drill," Shunpike says.

Narcissa gets off the bus in the middle of busy London. She only needs to turn right into a side street and down a couple of houses. Then, she stands in front of a red brick building that houses the store Purge and Dowse, so says a large white and black sign above the door. According to another sign the store is currently "Closed for Refurbishment". It does look believable and still Narcissa can't fathom how the cover has not blown up yet. After all, this store has been _closed for refurbishment_ for centuries, but in a city as big as London people probably don't bother to care. She looks around and when she is sure that no one is watching her she steps up close to the dummy in the window and says, "This is Narcissa Black. I'm here to see my son Draco Malfoy." The window pane moves ever so slightly like the surface of a lake and Narcissa steps through it. She finds herself admits the chaos and hectic of any given hospital. On the left an old rather grumpy looking witch is seated behind a desk, going through a pile of papers. Several people are lined up in front of it, looking either anxious, angry or annoyed. Narcissa walks up right to the front of the desk and interrupts whatever the witch is doing. "Hello," she starts, but the man next to her interrupts her.

Exasperated he says, "I was here before you. You need to queue!" He points toward the end of the long queue behind him.

Narcissa cocks an eyebrow, but pays the man no further attention. "As I was going to say," she continues, "I am here to see my _son_ Draco _Malfoy_." She stresses those two words just in case the welcome witch, too, is under the false impression that she ought to queue. "Would you tell me his room, please?"

The witch sighs and takes her glasses off as she looks back and forth between Narcissa and the waiting man. Her gaze settling on Narcissa, she makes a small flick with her wand and says, "Fourth floor, room eight."

An argument erupts between the welcome witch and the waiting man who finds supporters in the other queuing people. Narcissa can faintly make out the welcome witch saying, "Well, she was already here, now, wasn't she," when she starts walking up the stairs to the fourth floor. When she finally reaches room eight on the fourth floor she is slightly out of breath and takes a moment to gather herself. Then, she knocks.

"Come in!" Draco calls and already she feels a bit relieved. At least she's conscious and sounds normal. She walks in and sees Draco _sitting up_ on his bed.

"Hello, mother," he says rather cheerfully.

"Hello, my b- What are you doing here?" On a chair next to his bed is sitting Andromeda.

"I'm visiting my nephew," her sister says.

Narcissa's temper rises immediately. How is it that her sister knew her son was hospitalized before she did?

Apparently, Andy senses her confusion and explains, "I happened to be there when he got injured and I followed the emergency healers."

"I see. Well, Draco's an adult, now. If he wants to see you, there's nothing I can do about it."

"Mother!"

"Narcissa, I-"

"How are you, Draco?" she asks, sitting down on the edge of his bed. "What happened?"

"It's nothing too bad, so you can get that frown off your pretty face," he says, laughing.

Narcissa is not in the mood for jokes. "It's not funny, Draco. Now, tell me what happened."

"It happened during work. There was a Dementor attack in Hogsmeade this morning," he says.

Andromeda says, "I was just entering Honeydukes when-"

"What happened, darling?" she asks, completely ignoring her sister.

"Well, my unit arrived there almost immediately after the attack started, but we didn't expect there to be so many of them. It must have been about thirty, mother. It was horrible. And well, we were simply not enough Aurors. I was tackling five Dementors at once and I didn't notice the Death Eaters that were infiltrating the shops all around. Well, one of them got me. Stupified me from behind. Coward … While I was laying there a Dementor started to suck on me."

"Oh Merlin!" she gasps, clasping a hand over her mouth.

Draco laughs. "It's fine, mother. Harry chased the thing away and they brought me here immediately. I can go home tonight already. They've taken very good care of me." He points towards a huge pile of empty chocolate frog boxes.

"I'm glad you're ok. You've scared me."

"I'm sorry, mother. I told them not to alert you. I knew you'd be sick with worry."

The door opens and a healer comes in, carrying a tray of food. "There you are, Mr. Malfoy. Enjoy your first and last dinner here."

"Merlin, is that late already?" Narcissa asks.

"Nah, dinner is a bit early here," Draco says. "It's six o' clock."

"Damn it, I promised Molly to do the groceries. We're all having dinner at Harry and Ginny's tonight."

"I can text Hermione," Andy says. "I'll tell what happened. They're figure something out."

Narcissa nods, but she's definitely not going to thank her. There's an awkward silence as Draco eats his dinner and no one says anything. Eventually Andromeda says, "Cissy, I'm so, so deeply sorry."

"Are you, now?" She looks down on her sister. She has no intention to make this easy for her. "Took you quite a while."

"Please, Cissy, what was I supposed to think? I mean, it seemed to be the only explanation that you … well, you know …But then, I read the article and Merlin, I had no idea-"

"Article? What are you talking about?"

"You haven't seen it?" Draco asks.

"It's been on the front page," Andy says, taking out a copy of the Daily Prophet and handing it to her. "People are talking of nothing else."

Narcissa looks at the front page and reads,

 _ **Soulmates – our world turned on its head**_

 _by Rita Skeeter_

 _A prophecy, a rare bond, a child – the relationship between Narcissa Black and Hermione Granger questions everything we know_

 _Narcissa Black, socialite and now ex-wife of Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, and Hermione Granger, war hero and Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, have shocked and touched us when they came forward about their deep love for each other. Just how deep that connection is none of us could have imagined. Latest intelligence has it that they are soulmates!_

 _It is a most unusual love story. When the two ladies went public with their relationship most of us were thrilled – the two beauties do make an attractive and scandalous couple – but also shocked. Narcissa comes from the Noble House of Black, which is known for its firm belief in Pureblood supremacy and was married to famous Death Eater Lucius Malfoy for 20 years. Her sister is no other than notorious murderer Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione, of course, is a Muggleborn witch who fought Voldemort alongside Harry Potter during the Second War. Now, as the youngest Head of Department the Ministry has ever seen, she's already made a name for herself as a pioneer in the fight for equality. To many of us, there could not have been a more unlikely pair. Now, though, it seems that they were always destined to be._

 _There is a prophecy, guarded in the depths of the Ministry for decades, that speaks of a special bond between Narcissa Black and Hermione Granger; a bond that will be crowned by a child. Our source can confirm that Narcissa is indeed pregnant by no other than her partner Hermione. How, you might ask._ Amorem Unificarum _– it is very ancient magic that reaches back centuries. Witches have used it to procreate with one another, but as it so happens, the spell only works with soulmates._

 _Soulmates are rare enough as is. They occur only every couple of decades at best. What's more curious, soulbonds are known to happen only between Pureblood witches and wizards – until now. A soulbond between a Pureblood and a Muggleborn is unheard of confirms Cuthbert Binns, professor for History of Magic at Hogwarts. It has been believed to be impossible due to the different physiology of Purbebloods and Muggleborns. Of course, this fact has been widely used by Pureblood supremacists as proof that Purebloods are indeed superior to Half-Bloods and Muggleborns. Although, it is not openly spoken about a lot of people share this sentiment behind closed doors. Now, this seemingly impossible bond has happened for the first time in history. How this has happened and what it means, not even magical theorist Arden Walberg can explain to us. Of course, we will keep you, our dear readers, updated on this most curious magical novicey._

Next to this article there's a smaller one about her divorce. Her heart is beating fast. How on earth does the Prophet know all this? She puts the paper down, her hands shaking.

"Mother, are you well? You look pale."

"This is not good," she says more to herself.

"Why not?" Draco asks.

Narcissa looks at her sister and knows immediately that Andy understands. "People are talking you said?"

"Yes, they were … well, quite shocked. Some were … disgusted, I hate to say it."

"I need to go," she says and hurries out of the hospital. An indescribable fear overtakes her and mixes with anger, a hot cold anger for Rita Skita.

…

The editorial office is almost empty. The last writers shuffle out, having just finished today's edition of the _Evening Prophet_. Narcissa steps inside after everyone has left; everyone but Rita Skeeter. Even though the lights are already dimmed, the woman's yellow blonde hair stands out like a canary's. She is hunched over her purse and crams the last of her belongings into it; a wallet, her self-writing quill and a small notepad. Narcissa closes the door.

"Arnold, have you forgotten your umbrella again?" Skeeter asks. After a while, when Narcissa hasn't answered, Skeeter turns around. She seems only mildly surprised. "Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy." She gasps mockingly. "Oh my bad, it's Black now, after all, isn't it? What can I do for you?"

Narcissa's heart beats a little faster, anger rising slowly, consistently. "You know exactly why I'm here," she says. The grip on her wand tightens subconsciously.

"Mh, impending motherhood does not make you any softer, I see. No, no, we're made of the same bone, aren't we?"

"Where did you get your information from?" Narcissa's voice is but a low whisper. "Who is your source?"

"Ah, but I cannot tell." Skeeter wiggles her finger at her like you would at a child. "A good Intrigant – journalist I mean – never tells her source."

Narcissa draws her wand. "Tell me who-"

"Why don't you ask your little Mudblood?" Rita shoulders her purse.

Something flips. In a minute Narcissa has her wand at Skeeter's throat. "Do not ever insult her in front of me."

Rita chuckles. "My my, are you in so deep that you've lost your cunningness? Think carefully about what you're doing. What would people think if you turned out to have a terribly short temper? Ex of a Death Eater, soulmate of a the most famous Mudblood, murderer … How does that look?" She puts her hand on Narcissa's wand and moves it away from her throat. She extinguishes the light of her table lamp and leaves. On the threshold she turns around once more. "You know, if I were you, I would be much more concerned about the safety of my partner than some stupid little article."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, cat's out the sack. Lucius now knows he is not the one the Prophecy refers to. Merlin, he must livid, knowing that his wife is destined to be with a little Mudblood girl and carrying her child no less. I'll bet you anything he'll make sure to stop the fulfillment of the Prophecy. And," Rita drawls, extinguishing the head light, "we both know _you_ won't be the one he's gonna harm. Close the door after you, will you, darling?"

Narcissa's wand trembles slightly in her hand, she's losing grip on it. An all-consuming fear creeps up on her like a poisonous infection, slowly possessing every inch of her being. Where is Hermione? She tries to find her way out of this office, staggering in the darkness in between desks. "Ouch, damn it!" She's walked right into the sharp edge of one. She continues blindly like in a labyrinth until light hits her eyes again and she's out. Skeeter's gone, but that's not her biggest concern, right now. She needs to get to the public fire places at the Cauldron. She needs to get to Grimmauld's Place. She hopes to Merlin Hermione will be there already. Diagon is still pretty packed. It's difficult to get through the crowd. It's like people won't even make room for her. It does not nothing to calm her. Has Hermione answered Andy's text message? Someone bumps into her. There are the fire places. She stands in line; lots of people are wanting to get home. The pouring rain makes everyone look like lost children. Why are they all staring at her? The line moves forward one spot. Suddenly, she feels a sharp stabbing pain in her abdomen. She clutches her belly and barely stifles a groan as another wave of pain hits her and she feels it leaving her body. She steps out of the line and with quick stiff steps makes it to the restroom in the Cauldron. Warm liquid gathers between her legs and will soon become visible. Luckily, the restroom is empty. She doesn't need to go to St. Mungo's to know what's happening. There's no doubt as to what this is. She's had one before, before Draco. She occupies the first cubicle. It stinks disgustingly and there's no toilet paper left, but she doesn't need to use the loo. Her wand will do to clean up. In a hurry she unbuttons her pants. Hermione and her wellbeing is still all that's on her mind. She takes her panties off, consciously avoiding looking at it, and throws them into the trash bin. "Scrougify." Her voice is small and trembles slightly.

…

The living room of Grimmauld's is empty when she arrives, but a lot of noise comes from the kitchen. They're probably all in there, chatting, helping Mollly, salivating in anticipation of the wonderful meal. For a moment she considers leaving again. If it were not for the monster in the back of her head, telling her that Hermione might be in mortal peril, she would. She opens the kitchen door and scans the room. Most of it is filled with fiery redheads, Potter's messy black hair and – Merlin! – a head of golden-brunette locks.

"There you are!" Hermione beams at her. "I got Andy's message," she says, making her way toward Narcissa. "I'm so glad Draco's alright."

Narcissa hugs her tightly like she's just reconnected with a long-lost love. "Are you alright?" Hermione asks. She nods.

"Narcissa! Just in time for dinner," Molly says. "Come, sit down." Everyone else does and reluctantly she follows suit. "I've made Haggis and some salad." Molly puts a loaded plate in front of her. "Lots of iron. Excellent for the baby."

"There is no baby," she breathes. No one seems to have heard her, except for Hermione on her left, who looks at her like she's just announced she's deadly ill, and Harry on her right, who puts his cutlery down again very slowly, staring at her.

"What did you say, dear?" Molly asks.

"I said there is no baby," she says more forcefully; it takes all strength out of her. Now, the room falls silent. Everyone looks at her and she only now truly realizes that she's spoken aloud in front of everyone. Suddenly she feels a sense of guilt and shame she cannot make sense of. She's out of the kitchen and back at the fireplace within seconds.

"Narcissa, wait!" Hermione calls after her.

Narcissa doesn't wait. The green flames engulf her, spiral her through darkness and spit her out in their flat. She doesn't turn on the lights. She doesn't even take off her shoes nor her coat.

The flames roar. "Narcissa!" Hermione steps out of the fireplace. It's moments like these when Narcissa really wishes she had her own flat. She needs to time to process what happened today, time to understand her own feeling. "What do you mean, there's no baby?" Hermione asks.

"Your little problem has solved itself," she says. "I miscarried." It's not fair and she knows it, but she's angry. At whom or what exactly she doesn't know, but Hermione's here, so she's the target of this anger.

"How can you say … Narcissa, that is not what I wa-"

"Keep it. I know you never wanted this child," she says. Hermione is about to retort, but she slams the bedroom door shut behind her. She doesn't want to hear, now, or speak. She wants nothingness. With all of her clothes on she gets under the bedcovers and pulls them up all the way to her nose.

It is still dark when she wakes up. The space next to her is empty, but there's a noise. She turns around to see Hermione sitting on the window sill, looking out into the night. Could it be? "Are you crying?" Her voice is heavy with sleep. Hermione shakes her head, but Narcissa knows that's a lie. She probs herself up against the headboard and waits for Hermione to talk.

Eventually Hermione says, "I didn't want this. I didn't want you to lose our child." She buries her head in her hands, sobbing.

Narcissa sighs. She gets up and takes her in her arms. "I know. I'm sorry I said that."

Hermione returns her embrace fiercely. "I did have mixed feelings when you first told me, but I was starting to look forward to it." She cries harder now. "I actually really like the idea of having a child with you."

Narcissa is not sure she understands. Carefully she asks, "Are you saying that you want to _try_ to have a child?"

"Maybe. Not right now, I think, but maybe eventually."

This startles Narcissa a little. "I didn't think you'd want that. Where is this coming from?"

Hermione detangles herself from Narcissa's neck. Her eyes a red and blotchy. "I don't have a family anymore." She shrugs helplessly, struggling to explain.

She doesn't need to explain, though, because Narcissa understands. Although technically, she always had a family, it didn't always feel like it and the feeling of desperately wanting to belong to someone is all too familiar to her.

Hermione continues, "Narcissa, I want _you_ to be my family."

She is speechless. Hermione has never been so open about her feelings. Before she can find the right words to respond, Hermione gets off the window sill and goes to her night stand. "Objectively this is probably the worst moment," she says and opens the drawer, "but it feels right." She comes back with a little black box in her hand.

"What is that?" Narcissa asks.

Hermione just chuckles and gets down on one knee in front of her. She opens the box. It reveals a simple elegant, but large diamond ring. "Narcissa Ofelia Black, will you do me the honour-"

 _Merlin._

"- to become my wife?"

Narcissa's mind is blank except for one word: "Yes."

Hermione looks beyond beautiful as a broad smile spreads across her tear-stained face. She takes the ring out of its box and slides it onto Narcissa's left ring finger. Narcissa pulls her up by her face to kiss her, tears brimming her eyes as she does so. They break the kiss to catch their breath. Looking down at Narcissa's left hand, Hermione says, "It's a Muggle tradition. We give the person we ask to marry us a ring as a symbol. It's quite important to me. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." Narcissa kisses her again, her heart swelling with unconditional love. Some might indeed call it an unconventional moment, but to Narcissa it is perfect because she feels as surely as ever that, despite everything that is happening, they're going to stay together.


End file.
